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aUEEN   MAB; 


PHILOSOPHICAL  POEM. 


BY 

PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY. 


NEW  YORK: 

PRINTED    BY    WILLIAM   BALDWIN  AND    CO.   CORNER    OF 
CHATHAM   STREET. 

1821. 


Tr.'R. 

B£,\.VT 

S545QA 


/ 


PREFACE. 


The  Editor  of  this  edition  of  "  Queen  Mab,"  was  in 
England  in  the  Spring  of  1815,  and  received  a  copy  of 
the  Poem  from  the  Author,  who  was  then  in  his  twenty- 
second  year.  It  was  written  during  his  minority,  and  a 
small  number  were  printed,  and  circulated  privately, 
without  a  title-page,  or  printer's  name. 

The  press  of  England  was  never  free,  even  in  her 
best  days,  but  now  that  she  is  rapidly  declining  in  the 
scale  of  empire  and  prosperity,  and  bending  her  neck  to 
the  yoke  of  despotism,  it  is  completely  enslaved.  No 
one  who  valued  his  liberty  could  think  of  publishing 
such  a  work,  and  it  remained  in  obscurity  until  a  book- 
seller, of  the  name  of  Clarke,  had  the  temerity  to  print 
and  sell  publicly  in  London,  an  elegant  octavo  edition, 
early  in  the  present  year.  A  prosecution  was  speedily 
commenced  against  him,  by  an  infamous  junta  of  canting 
hypocrites,  assuming  the  title  of  "  A  Society  for  the 
Suppression  of  Vice,"  and  he  has,  most  probably,  ere 
this  been  tried,  condemned,  and  consigned  to  a  dungeon. 


304052 


PREFACE. 

The  American  public  knew  nothing  of  this  book ;  but 
the  report  brought  by  the  British  papers  of  the  prose- 
cution, soon  excited  in  them  an  ardent  curiosity  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  it. 

The  American  booksellers  being  determined  to  re 
print  it,  the  Editor,  out  of  respect  to  Mr.  Shelley,  was  in- 
duced to  superintend  the  present  edition,  which  he 
trusts  will  not  disgrace  the  Author  by  the  manner  in 
which  it  is  executed. 

The  object  of  the  projectors  of  this  edition,  was 
cheapness  and  portability,  in  order  that  it  might  come 
into  the  hands  of  all  classes  of  society  ;  consequently 
it  was  thought  that  translations  of  those  passages  in  the 
notes,  quoted  from  Greek,  Latin,  and  French  authors, 
would  be  acceptable.  This  has  been  done  with  the 
greatest  fidelity;  and  the  Editor  pledges  himself  that 
there  is  no  variation  throughout  this  volume  from  the 
original,  except  four  places  in  the  notes,  where  the 
translation  is  substituted  for  the  French  and  Greek,  with 
a  view  to  render  the  book  less  expensive. 

Those  gentlemen  who  may  be  in  possession  of  "  The 
Revolt  of  Islam;"  the  tragedy  of  the  "  Cenci ;"  the 
lyrical  drama  of  "  Prometheus,"  and  the  various  other 
poems  of  the  same  author,  which  are  printed  in  the 
octavo  shape,  will  find  the  English  edition,  before  al- 
luded to,  more  suitable  to  bind  for  their  libraries,  the 
present  one  being  got  up  merely  with  a  view  to  give  ex- 


PREFACE. 

tensive  circulation  to  the  principles  contained  both  in 
the  poem  and  the  notes. 

An  Ode  is  printed  at  the  end  of  the  preface,  written 
by  a  friend  of  the  Editor,  early  in  the  year  1815,  in- 
scribed "  to  the  Author  of  Queen  Mab,"  predicting  his 
future  fame,  though  at  that  period  he  was  unknown  to 
the  world,  and  had  not  written  or  published  any  of  those 
poems  which  have  since  established  his  character  as  a 
man  of  genius,  in  spite  of  the  extensive  influence  of 
religious  prejudice. 

By  a  file  of  "  The  Examiner,"  (one  of  the  best  Lon- 
don Sunday  newspapers)  just  received,  it  appears  that 
Mr.  Shelley  is  residing  at  Pisa,  in  Italy,  and  is  in  no  re- 
spect party  to  the  publication  of  his  Poem  in  England. 
It  is  but  justice  to  him  to  subjoin  the  letter  he  ad- 
dressed to  the  Editor  of  that  paper. 

Should  the  present  Edition  meet  the  approbation  of 
the  Public,  it  will  be  stereotyped  for  the  benefit  of  the 
rising  generation. 

A  PANTHEIST.  * 

New  York, 
27th  Oct.  1821. 


to  the  editor  of  the  examiner. 
Sir, 
Having  heard  that  a  poem,  entitled  Queen  Mab,  has 
been  surreptitiously  published  in  London,  and  that  legal 
proceedings  have  been  instituted  against  the  publisher, 


3G4052 


PREFACE. 

I  request  the  favour  of  your  insertion  of  the  following 
explanation  of  the  affair  as  it  relates  to  me. 

A  poem,  entitled  Queen  Mab,  was  written  by  me  at 
the  age  of  eighteen,  I  dare  say  in  a  sufficiently  intempe- 
rate spirit— but  even  then  was  not  intended  for  publica- 
tion, and  a  few  copies  only  were  struck  off,  to  be  distri- 
buted among  my  personal  friends.  I  have  not  seen  this 
production  for  several  years ;  I  doubt  not  but  that  it  is 
perfectly  worthless  in  point  of  literary  composition ;  and 
that  in  all  that  concerns  moral  and  political  speculation, 
as  well  as  in  the  subtler  discriminations  of  metaphysical 
and  religious  doctrine,  it  is  still  more  crude  and  imma- 
ture. I  am  a  devoted  enemy  to  religious,  political,  and 
domestic  oppression;  and  I  regret  this  publication,  not 
so  much  from  literary  vanity,  as  because  I  fear  it  is  bet- 
ter fitted  to  injure  than  to  serve  the  sacred  cause  of  free- 
dom. I  have  directed  my  Solicitor  to  apply  to  Chancery 
for  an  injunction  to  restrain  the  sale  ;  but  after  the  pre- 
cedent of  Mr.  Southey's  Wat  Tyler,  (a  poem  written,  I 
believe,  at  the  same  age,  and  with  the  same  unreflecting- 
enthusiasm)  with  little  hopes  of  success. 

Whilst  I  exonerate  myself  from  all  share  in  having  di- 
vulged opinions  hostile  to  existing  sanctions,  under  the 
form,  whatever  it  may  be,  which  they  assume  in  this  po- 
em ;  it  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  protest  against 
the  system  of  inculcating  the  truth  of  Christianity  and 
the  excellence  of  Monarchy,  however  true,  or  however 


PREFACE. 

excellent  they  may  be,  by  such  equivocal  arguments  as 
confiscation,  and  imprisonment,  and  invective,  and  slan- 
der, and  the  insolent  violation  of  the  most  sacred  ties  of 
nature  and  society. 

Sir, 

I  am,  your  obliged  and  obedient  Servant, 

Percy  B.  Shelley. 

Pisa,  June  22, 1821. 


ODE 


THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  QUEEN  MAB." 


1. 

Oh  !  thou  who  hast  dispelled  the  shame 

That  hung  about  the  poet's  name  ; 
The  Poet  !  rarely  seen  on  that  rough  shore, 
Where  the  bleak  winds  of  independence  roar, 

And  brace  the  nerves  of  him  who  loves, 

Beyond  the  orient's  spicy  groves 
To  roam  with  Liberty  (in  proud  disdain 
Of  Grandeur's  palaces)  her  wild  domain. 

But,  ah!  too  oft  recumbent  found 

On  the  odour-sprinkled  ground, 

Trod  by  the  tyrant's  footstep  base, 

Kindling  the  liar's  incense  vase  j 
Oh  !  thou,  who  hast  redeemed  this  load  of  shame  I 
A  bard  obscure  invokes  thy  future  fame; 


ODE. 


2. 


Though  now  defrauded  of  the  praise 
Due  to  thy  truth-supporting  lays ; 
Though  noxious  Prejudice  and  chilling  Sloth 
Retard  thy  blooming  chaplet's  flowery  growth 
Though  now  a  shackled  press  refuse 
To  aid  thy  nobly-daring  muse  ; 
Yet  is  that  time  in  progress,  when  thy  theme 
Shall  universal  spread  as  day's  bright  beam. 
Then  shall  the  bloody  brand  of  ire 
Quenched  in  love  and  peace  expire : 
Their  mitres,  cowls,  and  crosiered  staves 
Be  torn  from  man-deluding  knaves  ; 
The  gorgeous  canopies  of  tyrant  might 
Sink  and  o'erwhelra  him  in  eternal  night. 


O  !  how  thy  rich  poetic  page 
My  growing  wonder  did  engage  : 
Methought  with  Fairy  Mab  I  soar'd,  to  trace 
The  vast  immense  of  universal  space 
While  with  the  pure  unspotted  soul 
That  from  Ianthe's  bosom  stole, 
I  shed  the  sacred  drops  of  Feeling's  birth, 
To  view  the  moral  desert  of  the  earth, 


ODE. 

And  oft  I  curs'd  "  the  Almighty  Fiend," 

Who  from  his  empyreal  lean'd, 

And  poured  the  venomed  vial  of  strife 

To  damp  the  hope  of  human  life. 
These  truths  the  voice  of  nations  shall  proclaim 
In  coming  times,  and  bless  thy  name  : 
Hail !  then,  immortal  bard ;  hail  to  thy  future  fame. 

B.  C  F. 


As  the  Author  has  fixed  no  Argument  to  his  Poem,  the 
following  short  Sketch  of  it,  extracted  from  a  Po- 
lemical Magazine,  published  in  London,  1815, 
may  not  be  an  improper  introduction, 

"The  author  has  made  fiction  and  suitable  poetical 
imagery  the  vehicles  of  his  moral  and  philosophical 
opinions.  The  attributes  of  Queen  Mab  form  the  ma- 
chinery of  a  work,  in  which  the  delightful  creations  of 
fancy,  and  the  realities  of  truth,  unite  to  produce  an  in- 
delible impression  on  the  mind. 

"The  Fairy  descends  in  her  chariot,  and,  hovering  over 
this  earth,  confers  on  the  soul  of  a  beautiful  female 
(lanthe)  the  glorious  boon  of  a  complete  knowledge  of 
the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future.  The  body  is 
lulled  to  sleep ;  the  soul  ascends  the  car  of  the  Fairy, 
and  then  take  their  flight  through  the  unmeasurable  ex- 
panse of  the  universe.  Arrived  at  the  palace  of  the 
"  Queen  of  Spells,"  the  Spirit  is  led  by  her  to  the 
"overhanging  battlement,''  and  thence  beholds  the  in- 
expressible grandeur  of  that  multitude  of  worlds, 
among  which,  this  earth  (to  which  her  attention  is  es- 
pecially directed)  is  but  an  insignificant  speck. 

"  The  Fairy  then  proceeds  to  point  out  the  ruined  ci- 
ties of  ancient  time ;  and  her  sublime  descriptions,  with 
the  reflections  naturally  suggested  by  the  pomp  and 


ARGUMENT. 

decay  of  grandeur,  and  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires, 
will  be  found  particularly  attractive. 

"  Having  reviewed  the  deeds  of  ages  past,  the  Fairy 
next  expatiates  on  the  systems  at  present  in  existence  ; 
and  here  the  Author's  opinions,  conveyed  through  the 
lips  of  his  visionary  instrument,  are  bold  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  daring. 

"The  doctrine  of  necessity,  abstruse  and  dark  as  its 
subject  is  generally  believed,  forms  a  leading  consider- 
ation in  this  poem,  and  is  treated  with  a  precision  of 
demonstration,  and  illumined  with  a  radiance  of  genius, 
far  beyond  expectation  itself: — 

"  The  present  and  the  past  thou  hast  beheld ; 
It  was  a  desolate  sight." 

"  And  the  Fairy  then  lifts  the  veil  of  an  imaginary 
futurity,  and  presents  to  the  delighted  Spirit  the  pros- 
pect of  a  state  of  human  perfection,  which  affords  illi' 
mitable  range  for  the  erratic  wanderings  of  poetic  ar- 
dour. Here  the  Fairy  and  the  Spirit  revel  in  all  the 
luxury  of  hope  and  joy;  and  having  contemplated 
awhile,  with  virtuous  satisfaction,  the  happy  scene  thus 
opened  to  mortal  conception,  the  former  declares  her 
task  completed,  and  conveys  the  latter  to  her  earthly 
tenement,  which  her  anxious  lover  is  watching  with  im- 
patient ardour  for  its  resuscitation." 

Theological  Enquirer,  by  Erasmus  Perkins. 


QUEEN  MAB. 


How  wonderful  is  Death, 

Death  and  his  brother  Sleep  ! 
One,  pale  as  yonder  waning  moon 

With  lips  of  lurid  blue  ; 
The  other,  rosy  as  the  morn 

When  throned  on  ocean's  wave 

It  blushes  o'er  the  world: 
Yet  both  so  passing  wonderful ! 

Hath  then  the  gloomy  Power 
Whose  reign  is  in  the  tainted  sepulchres 
Seized  on  her  sinless  soul  ? 
Must  then  that  peerless  form 
Which  love  and  admiration  cannot  view 
Without  a  beating  heart,  those  azure  veins 
Which  steal  like  streams  along  a  field  of  snow, 
That  lovely  outline,  which  is  fair 
As  breathing  marble,  perish  1 
Must  putrefaction's  breath 
Leave  nothing  of  this  heavenly  sight 
But  loathsomeness  and  ruin  1 
A 


4  QUEEN  MAB. 

Spare  nothing  but  a  gloomy  theme, 
On  which  the  lightest  heart  might  moralize? 
Or  is  it  only  a  sweet  slumber 

Stealing  o'er  sensation, 
Which  th&  breath  of  roseate  morning 

Chaseth  into  darkness  ? 

Will  Ianthe  wake  again, 
And  give  that  faithful  bosom  joy 
Whose  sleepless  spirit  waits  to  catch 
Light,  life,  and  rapture  from  her  smile? 

Yes !  she  will  wake  again, 
Although  her  glowing  limbs  are  motionless, 

And  silent  those  sweet,  lips, 

Once  breathing  eloquence 
That  might  have  soothed  a  tyger's  rage, 
Or  thawed  the  cold  heart  of  a  conqueror* 

Her  dewy  eyes  are  closed, 
And  on  their  lids,  whose  texture  fine 
Scarce  hides  the  dark  blue  orbs  beneath, 

The  baby  Sleep  is  pillowed : 

Her  golden  tresses  shade, 

The  bosom's  stainless  pride, 
Curling  like  tendrils  of  the  parasite 

Around  a  marble  column. 

Hark !  whence  that  rushing  sound? 

'Tis  like  the  wondrous  strain 
That  round  a  lonely  ruin  swells, 
Which,  wandering  on  the  echoing  shore. 

The  enthusiast  hears  at  evening : 
'Tis  softer  than  the  west  wind's  sigh  j 


I.  QUEEN  MAB,  » 

*Tis  wilder  than  the  unmeasured  notes 
Of  that  strange  lyre  whose  strings 
The  genii  of  the  breezes  sweep : 

Those  lines  of  rainbow  light 
Are  like  the  moon-beams,  when  they  fall 
Through  some  cathedral  window,  but  the  teints 

Are  such  as  may  not  find 

Comparison  on  earth. 

Behold  the  chariot  of  the  Fairy  Queen ! 
Celestial  coursers  paw  the  unyielding  air ; 
Their  filmy  pennons  at  her  word  they  furl. 
And  stop  obedient  to  the  reins  of  light : 

These  the  Queen  of  Spells  drew  in, 

She  spread  a  charm  around  the  spot, 
And  leaning  graceful  from  the  ethereal  car, 

Long  did  she  gaze,  and  silently, 

Upon  the  slumbering  maid. 

Oh  !  not  the  visioned  poet  in  his  dreams, 
When  silvery  clouds  float  through  the  wilder^ 

brain, 
When  every  sight  of  lovely,  wild,  and  grand, 
Astonishes,  enraptures,  elevates — 
When  fancy,  at  a  glance, combines 
The  wond'rous  and  the  beautiful, — 
So  bright,  so  fair,  so  wild  a  shape 
Hath  ever  yet  beheld, 
As  that  which  reined  the  coursers  of  the  air, 
And  poured  the  magic  of  her  gaze 
Upon  the  sleeping  maid. 
A2 


6  QUEEN  MAB.  I, 

The  broad  and  yellow  moon 
Shone  dimly  through  her  form — 

That  form  of  faultless  symmetry ; 

The  pearly  and  pellucid  car 

Moved  not  the  moonlight's  line  : 
'Twas  not  an  earthly  pageant : 

Those  who  had  looked  upon  the  sight, 
Passing  all  human  glory, 
Saw  not  the  yellow  moon, 
Saw  not  the  mortal  scene, 
Heard  not  the  night-wind's  rush, 
Heard  not  an  earthly  sound, 
Saw  but  the  fairy  pageant, 
Heard  but  the  heavenly  strains 
That  filled  the  lonely  dwelling. 

The  Fairy's  frame  was  slight,  yon  fibrous  cloud, 
That  catches  but  the  palest  tinge  of  even, 
And  which  the  stTaining  eye  can  hardly  seize 
When  melting  into  eastern  twilight's  shadow, 
Were  scarce  so  thin,  so  slight ;  but  the  fair  star 
That  gems  the  glittering  coronet  of  morn, 
Sheds  not  a  light  so  mild,  so  powerful, 
As  that  which,  bursting  from  the  Fairy's  form. 
Spread  a  purpureal  halo  round  the  scene, 
Yet  with  an  undulating  motion, 
Swayed  to  her  outline  gracefully. 
From  her  celestial  car 
The  Fairy  Queen  descended, 
And  thrice  she  waved  her  wand 
Circled  with  wreaths  of  amaranth  : 


QUEEN  MAB. 

Her  thin  and  misty  form 
Moved  with  the  moving  air, 
And  the  clear  silver  tones, 
As  thus  she  spoke,  were  such 
As  are  unheard  by  all  but  gifted  ear. 


Stars  !  your  balmiest  influence  shedl 
Elements  !  your  wrath  suspend  ! 
Sleep,  Ocean,  in  the  rocky  bounds 
That  circle  thy  domain  I 
Let  not  a  breath  be  seen  to  stir 
Around  yon  grass-grown  ruin's  height, 
Let  even  the  restless  gossamer 

Sleep  on  the  moveless  airi 
Soul  of  Iiinthe !  thou, 
Judged  alone  worthy  of  the  envied  boon, 
That  waits  the  good  and  the  sincere  ;   that  waits 
Those  who  have  struggled,  and  with  resolute  will 
Vanquished  earth's  pride  and  meanness,  burst 

the  chains, 
The  icy  chains  of  custom,  and  have  shone 
The  day-stars  of  their  age  ; — Soul  of  Iunthe ! 
Awake !  arise] 

Sudden  arose 
Iitnthe's  Soul ;  it  stood 
All  beautiful  in  naked  purity, 
The  perfect  semblance  of  its  bodily  frame. 
Instinct  with  inexpressible  beauty  and  grace, 
Each  stain  of  earthliness 


8  QUEEN  MAB.  I. 

Had  passed  away,  it  re-assumed 
Its  native  dignity,  and  stood 
Immortal  amid  ruin. 

Upon  the  couch  the  body  lay, 
"Wrapt  in  the  depth  of  slumber  : 
Its  features  were  fixed  and  meaningless, 

Yet  animal  life  was  there, 
And  every  organ  yet  performed 
Its  natural  functions:  'twas  a  sight 
Of  wonder  to  behold  the  body  and  soul. 
The  self-same  lineaments,  the  same 
Marks  of  identity  were  there  : 
Yet,  oh,  how  different !    One  aspires  to  Heaven , 
Pants  for  its  sempiternal  heritage, 
And  ever-changing,  ever-rising  still, 

Wantons  in  endless  being. 
The  other,  for  a  time  the  unwilling  sport 
Of  circumstance  and  passion,  struggles  on; 
Fleets  through  its  sad  duration  rapidly : 
Then  like  a  useless  and  worn-out  machine, 
Rots,  perishes,  and  passes. 

FAIRY. 

Spirit !  who  hast  dived  so  deep  ; 
Spirit !  who  hast  soared  so  high  ; 
Thou  the  fearless,  thou  the  mild, 
Accept  the  boon  thy  worth  hath  earned, 
Ascend  the  car  with  me. 

SPIRIT. 

Do  I  dream  ?  Is  this  new  feeling 


I.  QUEEN  MAB.  9 

But  a  visioned  ghost  of  slumber  ? 

If  indeed  I  am  a  soul, 
A  free,  a  disembodied  soul, 

Speak  again  to  me. 

FAIRY. 

I  am  the  Fairy  Mab  :  to  me  'tis  given 
The  wonders  of  the  human  world  to  keep : 
The  secrets  of  the  immeasurable  past, 
In  the  unfailing  consciences  of  men, 
Those  stern,  unflattering  chroniclers,  I  find: 
The  future,  from  the  causes  which  arise 
In  each  event,  I  gather  :   not  the  sting 
Which  retributive  memory  implants 
In  the  hard  bosom  of  the  selfish  man  ; 
Nor  that  extatic  and  exulting  throb 
Which  virtue's  votary  feels  when  he  sums  up 
The  thoughts  and  actions  of  a  well-spent  day, 
Are  unforeseen,  unregistered  by  me  : 
And  it  is  yet  permitted  me,  to  rend 
The  veil  of  mortal  frailty,  that  the  spirit 
Clothed  in  its  changeless  purity,  may  know 
How  soonest  to  accomplish  the  great  end 
For  which  it  hath  its  being,  and  may  taste 
That  peace,  which  in  the  end  all  life  will  share, 
This  is  the  meed  of  virtue  ;  happy  soul, 
Ascend  the  car  with  me  ! 

The  chains  of  earth's  immurement 
Fell  from  Iiinthe's  spirit ; 
Thej  shrank  and  break  like  bandages  of  straw 
Beneath  a  wakened  giant's  strength. 


10  QUEEN  MAB. 

She  knew  her  glorious  change, 
And  felt  in  apprehension  uncontrolled, 

New  raptures  opening  round : 
Each  day-dream  of  her  mortal  life, 
Each  frenzied  vision  of  the  slumbers 

That  closed  each  well-spent  day, 

Seemed  now  to  meet  reality. 

The  Fairy  and  the  Soul  proceeded  ; 
The  silver  clouds  disparted ; 
And  as  the  car  of  magic  they  ascended, 
Again  the  speechless  music  swelled, 
Again  the  coursers  of  the  air 
Unfurled  their  azure  pennons,  and  the  Queen 
Shaking  the  beamy  reins 
Bade  them  pursue  their  way. 

The  magic  car  moved  on. 
The  night  was  fair,  and  countless  stars 
Studded  heaven's  dark  blue  vault, — 

Just  o'er  the  eastern  wave 
Peeped  the  first  faint  smile  of  morn  : — 

The  magic  car  moved  on — 

From  the  celestial  hoofs 
The  atmosphere  in  flaming  sparkles  flew, 

And  where  the  burning  wheels 
Eddied  above  the  mountain's  loftiest  peak, 

Was  traced  aline  of  lightning. 

Now  it  flew  far  above  a  rock, 

The  utmost  verge  of  earth, 
The  rival  of  the  Andes,  whose  dark  brow 

Lowere'd  o'er  the  silver  sea. 


I.  QUEEN  MAB.  U 

Far,  far  below  the  chariot's  path, 

Calm  as  a  slumbering  babe, 

Tremendous  Ocean  lay. 
The  mirror  of  its  stillness  shewed 

The  pale  and  waning  stars, 

The  chariot's  fiery  track, 

And  the  grey  light  of  morn 

Tinging  those  fleecy  clouds 

That  canopied  the  dawn. 
Seemed  it,  that  the  chariot's  way 
Lay  through  the  midst  of  an  immense  concave, 
Radiant  with  million  constellations,  tinged 

With  shades  of  infinite  colour, 

And  semi-circled  with  a  belt 

Flashing  incessant  meteors. 

The  magic  car  moved  on. 

As  they  approached  their  goal 
The  coursers  seemed  to  gather  speed ; 
The  sea  no  longer  was  distinguished;  earth 
Appeared  a  vast  and  shadowy  sphere  ; 

The  sun's  unclouded  orb 

Rolled  through  the  black  concave : 

Its  rays  of  rapid  light 
Parted  around  the  chariot's  swifter  course, 
And  fell,  like  ocean's  feathery  spray 

Dashed  from  the  boiling  surge 

Before  a  vessel's  prow. 

The  magic  car  moved  on. 
Earth's  distant  orb  appeared 
The  smallest  light  that  twinkles  in  the  heaven ; 


18  QUEEN  MAB.  I. 

Whilst  round  the  chariot's  way 

Innumerable  systems  rolled, 

And  countless  spheres  diffused 

An  ever-varying  glory. 
It  was  a  sight  of  wonder :  some 
Were  horned  like  the  crescent  moon  ; 
Some  shed  a  mild  and  silver  beam 
Like  Hesperus  o'er  the  Western  sea  ; 
Some  dash'd  athwart  with  trains  of  flame, 
Like  worlds  to  death  and  ruin  driven  ; 
Some  shone  like  suns,  and  as  the  chariot  passed, 
Eclipsed  all  other  light. 

K  Spirit  of  Nature  !  here ! 
In  this  interminable  wilderness 
Of  worlds,  at  whose  immensity 
Even  soaring  fancy  staggers, 
Here  is  thy  fitting  temple. 
Yet  not  the  lightest  leaf 
That  quivers  to  the  passing  breeze 
Is  less  instinct  with  thee : 
Yet  not  the  meanest  worm 
That  lurks  in  graves  and  fattens  on  the  dead 
Less  shares  thy  eternal  breath. 

Spirit  of  Nature  !  thou ! 
Imperishable  as  this  scene, 
Here  is  thy  fitting  temple. 


en 


II.  QUEEN  MAB.  IS 


II. 


If  solitude  hath  ever  led  thy  steps 
To  the  wild  ocean's  echoing  shore, 
And  theu  hast  lingered  there, 
Until  the  sun's  broad  orb 
Seemed  resting  on  the  burnished  wave, 

Thou  must  have  marked  the  lines 
Of  purple  gold,  that  motionless 

Hung  o'er  the  sinking  sphere  : 
Thou  must  have  marked  the  billowy  clouds 
Edged  with  intolerable  radiancy 
Towering  like  roeks  of  jet 
Crowned  with  a  diamond  wreath. 
And  yet  there  is  a  moment, 
When  the  sun's  highest  point 
Peeps  like  a  star  o'er  ocean's  western  edge, 
When  those  far  clouds  of  feathery  gold, 
Shaded  with  deepest  purple,  gleam 
Like  islands  on  a  dark  blue  sea ; 
Then  has  thy  fancy  soared  above  the  earth, 
And  furled  its  wearied  wing 
Within  the  Fairy's  fane. 

Yet  not  the  golden  islands 
Gleaming  in  yon  flood  of  light, 


14  QUEEN  MAB.  II. 

Nor  the  feathery  curtains 
Stretching  o'er  the  sun's  bright  couch, 
Nor  the  burnished  ocean's  waves, 

Paving  that  gorgeous  dome, 
So  fair,  so  wonderful  a  sight 
As  Mab's  ethereal  palace  could  afford. 
Yet  likest  eTening's  vault,  that  fairy  Hall ! 
As  Heaven,  low  resting  on  the  wave,  it  spread 
Its  floors  of  flashing  light, 
Its  vast  and  azure  dome, 
Its  fertile  golden  islands 
Floating  on  a  silver  sea  ; 
Whilst  suns  their  mingling  beamings  darted 
Through  clouds  of  circumambient  darkness, 
And  pearly  battlements  around 
Looked  o'er  the  immense  of  Heaven. 
The  magic  car  no  longer  moved. 
The  Fairy  and  the  Spirit 
Entered  the  Hall  of  Spells ; 
Those  golden  clouds 
That  rolled  in  glittering  billows 
Beneath  the  azure  canopy, 
With  the  ethereal  footsteps,  trembled  not: 

The  light  and  crimson  mists, 
Floating  to  strains  of  thrilling  melody 
Through  that  unearthly  dwelling, 
Yielded  to  every  movement  of  the  will. 
Upon  their  passive  swell  the  Spirit  leaned, 
And,  for  the  varied  bliss  that  pressed  around* 
Used  not  the  glorious  privilege 
Of  virtue  and  of  wisdom. 


II.  QUEEN  MAB.  15 

Spirit !  the  Fairy  said, 
Aad  pointed  to  the  gorgeous  dome, 

This  is  a  wondrous  sight, 
And  mocks  all  human  grandeur  ; 
But,  were  it  virtue's  only  meed,  to  dwell 
In  a  celestial  palace,  all  resigned 
To  pleasurable  impulses,  immured 
Within  the  prison  of  itself,  the  will 
Of  changeless  nature  would  be  unfulfilled. 
Learn  to  make  others  happy.    Spirit,  come  ! 
This  is  thine  high  reward: — the  past  shall  rise  ; 
Thou  shalt  behold  the  present ;  I  will  teach 
The  secrets  of  the  future. 

The  Fairy  and  the  Spirit 
Approached  the  overhanging  battlement. — 
Below  lay  stretched  the  universe ! 
There,  far  as  the  remotest  line 
That  bounds  imagination's  flight, 
Countless  and  unending  orbs 
In  mazy  motion  intermingled, 
Yet  still  fulfilled  immutably 
Eternal  nature's  law. 
Above,  below,  around, 
The  circling  systems  formed 
A  wilderness  of  harmony ; 
Each  with  undeviating  aim, 
In  eloquent  silence,  through  the  depth*  of  space 
Pursued  its  wondrous  way. 

There  was  a  little  light 
That  twinkled  in  the  misty  distance: 
B 


16  QUEEN  MAB.  II. 

None  but  a  spirit's  eye 

Might  ken  that  rolling  orb ; 

None  but  a  spirit's  eye, 

And  in  no  other  place 
But  that  celestial  dwelling,  might  behold 
Each  action  of  this  earth's  inhabitants. 

But  matter,  space,  and  time 
In  those  aerial  mansions  cease  to  act ; 
And  all-prevailing  wisdom,  when  it  reaps 
The  harvest  of  its  excellence,  o'erbounds 
Those  obstacles,  of  which  an  earthly  soul 

Fears  to  attempt  the  conquest. 

The  Fairy  pointed  to  the  earth. 
The  Spirit's  intellectual  eye 
Its  kindred  beings  recognized. 
The  thronging  thousands,  to  a  passing  view, 
Seemed  like  an  anthill's  citizens. 
How  wonderful  !  that  even 
The  passions,  prejudices,  interests, 
That  sway  the  meanest  being,  the  weak  touch 
That  moves  the  finest  nerve, 
And  in  one  human  brain 
Causes  the  faintest  thought,  becomes  a  link 
In  the  great  chain  of  nature. 

Behold,  the  Fairy  cried, 
Palmyra's  ruined  palaces  ! — 

Behold !  where  grandeur  frowned ; 

Behold  !  where  pleasure  smiled  ; 
What  now  remains  ? — the  memory 

Of  senselessness  and  shame — 


II.  QUEEN  MAB.  17 

What  is  immortal  there  ? 

Nothing — it  stands  to  tell 

A  melancholy  tale,  to  give 

An  awful  warning :  soon 

Oblivion  will  steal  silently 

The  remnant  of  its  fame. 

Monarchs  and  conquerors  there, 
Proud  o'er  prostrate  millions  trod — 
The  earthquakes  of  the  human  race, 
Like  them,  forgotten  when  the  ruin 

That  marks  their  shock  is  past. 

Beside  the  eternal  Nile, 

The  Pyramids  have  risen. 
Nile  shall  pursue  his  changeless  way: 

Those  Pyramids  shall  fall ; 
Yea !  not  a  stone  shall  stand  to  tell 

The  spot  whereon  they  stood; 
Their  very  scite  shall  be  forgotten, 

As  is  their  builder's  name ! 

Behold  yon  sterile  spot ; 
Where  now  the  wandering  Arab's  tent 

Flaps  in  the  desert  blast. 
There  once  old  Salem's  haughty  fane 
Reared  high  to  heaven  its  thousand  golden  domes, 
And,  in  the  blushing  face  of  day, 
Exposed  its  shameful  glory. 
Oh !  many  a  widow,  many  an  orphan  cursed 
The  building  of  that  fane ;  and  many  a  father, 
Worn  out  with  toil  and  slavery,  implored 
The  poor  man's  god  to  sweep  it  from  the  earth, 
B  2 


18  QUEEN  MAB.  II. 

And  spare  his  children  the  detested  task 
Of  piling  stone  on  stone,  and  poisoning 
The  choicest  days  of  life, 
To  soothe  a  dotard's  vanity. 
There  an  inhuman  and  uncultured  race 
Howled  hideous  praises  to  their  Demon-God : 
They  rushed  to  war,  tore  from  the  mother's  womb 
The  unborn  child, — old  age  and  infancy 
Promiscuous  perished ;  their  victorious  arms 
Left  not  a  soul  to  breathe.  Oh!  they  were  fiends: 
But  what  was  he  who  taught  them,  that  the  God 
Of  nature  and  benevolence  had  given 
A  special  sanction  to  the  trade  of  blood  1 
His  name  and  theirs  are  fading,  and  the  tales 
Of  this  barbarian  nation,  which  imposture  , 
Recites  till  terror  credits,  are  pursuing 
Itself  into  forgetfulness. 

Where  Athens,  Rome,  and  Sparta  stood, 
There  is  a  moral  desartnow  : 
The  mean  and  miserable  huts, 
The  yet  more  wretched  palaces, 
Contrasted  with  those  ancient  fanes, 
Now  crumbling  to  oblivion  ; 
The  long  and  lonely  colonades, 
Through  which  the  ghost  of  Freedom  stalks, 
Seem  like  a  well-known  tune, 
Which,  in  some  dear  scene  we  have  loved  to  hear, 

Remembered  now  in  sadness. 

But,  oh  I  how  much  more  changed, 

How  gloomier  is  the  contrast 

Of  human  nature  there ! 


II.  QUEEN  MAB.  19 

Where  Socrates  expired,  a  tyrant's  slave, 
A  coward  and  a  fool,  spreads  death  around — 
Then,  shuddering,  meets  his  own. 
Where  Cicero  and  Antoninus  lived, 
A  hypocritical  and  cowled  monk 
Prays,  curses,  and  deceives. 

Spirit !  ten  thousand  years 
Have  scarcely  past  away, 
Since,  in  the  waste  where  now  the  savage  drinks 
His  enemy's  blood,  and  aping  Europe's  sons, 
Wakes  the  unholy  song  of  war, 
Arose  a  stately  city, 
Metropolis  of  the  western  continent : 

There,  now,  the  mossy  column-stone, 
Indented  by  Time's  unrelaxing  grasp, 
Which  once  appeared  to  brave 
AH,  save  its  country's  ruin  ; 
There  the  wide  forest  scene, 
Rude  in  the  uncultivated  loveliness 
Of  gardens  long  run  wild, 
Seems  to  the  unwilling  sojourner,  whose  steps 

Chance  in  that  desart  has  delayed, 
Thus  to  have  stood  since  earth  was  what  it  is. 
Yet  once  it  was  the  busiest  haunt, 
Whither,  as  to  a  common  centre,  flocked 
Strangers,  and  ships,  and  merchandize: 
Once  peace  and  freedom  blest 
The  cultivated  plain: 
But  wealth,  that  curse  of  man, 
Blighted  the  bud  of  its  prosperity: 

B  3 


20  QUEEN  MAB.  II. 

Virtue  and  wisdom,  truth  and  liberty, 
Fled,  to  return  not,  until  man  shall  know 
That  they  alone  can  give  the  bliss 

Worthy;  a  soul  that  claims 

Its  kindred  with  eternity. 

There's  not  one  atom  of  yon  earth 

But  once  was  living  man ! 
Nor  the  minutest  drop  of  rain, 
That  hangeth  in  its  thinnest  cloud, 

But  flowed  in  human  veins ; 

And  from  the  burning  plains 

Where  Lybian  monsters  yell, 

From  the  most  gloomy  glens 

Of  Greenland's  sunless  clime, 

To  where  the  golden  fields 

Of  fertile  England  spread 

Their  harvest  to  the  day, 

Thou  canst  not  find  one  spot 

Whereon  no  city  stood. 

How  strange  is  human  pride ! 
I  tell  thee  that  those  living  things, 
To  whom  the  fragile  blade  of  grass, 

That  springeth  in  the  morn 

And  perisheth  ere  noon, 

Is  an  unbounded  world : 
I  tell  thee  that  those  viewless  beings, 
Whose  mansion  is  the  smallest  particle 
Of  the  impassive  atmosphere, 

Think,  feel,  and  live  like  man ; 
That  their  affections  and  antipathies, 


II,  QUEEN  MAB.  21 

Like  his,  produce  the  laws 
Ruling  their  moral  state ; 
And  the  minutest  throb 
That  through  their  frame  diffuses 
The  slightest,  faintest  motion, 
Is  fixed  and  indispensable 
As  the  majestic  laws 
That  rule  yon  rolling  orbs. 

The  Fairy  paused.    The  Spirit, 
In  ecstacy  of  admiration,  felt 
All  knowledge  of  the  past  revived ;  the  events 
Of  old  and  wondrous  times, 
Which  dim  tradition  interruptedly 
Teaches  the  credulous  vulgar,  were  unfolded 
In  just  perspective  to  the  view ; 
Yet  dim  from  their  infinitude. 
The  Spirit  seemed  to  stand 
High  on  an  isolated  pinnacle  ; 
The  flood  of  ages  combating  below, 
The  depth  of  the  unbounded  universe 
Above,  and  all  around 
Nature's  unchanging  harmony. 


22  QUEEN  MAB.  HI. 


III. 


Fairy  !  the  Spirit  said, 
And  on  the  Queen  of  Spells 
Fixed  her  ethereal  eyes, 
I  thank  thee.    Thou  has  given 
A  boon  which  I  will  not  resign,  and  taught 
A  lesson  not  to  be  unlearned.     I  know 
The  past,  and  thence  I  will  essay  to  glean 
A  warning  for  the  future,  so  that  man 
May  profit  by  his  errors,  and  derive 

Experience  from  his  folly : 
For,  when  the  power  of  imparting  joy 
Is  equal  to  the  will,  the  human  soul 
Requires  no  other  heaven. 


Turn  thee,  surpassing  Spirit  I 
Much  yet  remains  unscanned. 
Thou  knowest  how  great  is  man, 
Thouknowest  his  imbecility : 
Yet  learn  thou  what  he  is ; 
Yet  learn  the  lofty  destiny 
Which  restless  time  prepares 
For  every  living  soul. 


III.  QUEEN  MAB.  23 

Behold  a  gorgeous  palace,  that,  amid 

Yon  populous  city,  rears  its  thousand  towers 

And  seems  itself  a  city.    Gloomy  troops 

Of  centinels,  in  stern  and  silent  ranks, 

Encompass  it  around  :  the  dweller  there 

Cannot  be  free  and  happy  ;  hearest  thou  not 

The  curses  of  the  fatherless,  the  groans 

Of  those  who  have  no  friend  ?    He  passes  on : 

The  King,  the  wearer  of  a  gilded  chain 

That  binds  his  soul  to  abjectness,  the  fool 

Whom  courtiers  nickname  monarch,  whilst  a  slave 

Even  to  the  basest  appetites-^-that  man 

Heeds  not  the  shriek  of  penury :  he  smiles 

At  the  deep  curses  which  the  destitute 

Mutter  in  secret,  and  a  sullen  joy 

Pervades  his  bloodless  heart  when  thousands  groan 

But  for  those  morsels  which  his  wantonness 

Wastes  in  unjoyous  revelry,  to  save 

All  that  they  love  from  famine :  when  he  hears 

The  tale  of  horror,  to  some  ready-made  face 

Of  hypocritical  assent  he  turns, 

Smothering  the  glow  of  shame,  that,  spite  of  him, 

Flushes  his  bloated  cheek. 


Now  to  the  meal 
Of  silence,  grandeur,  and  excess,  he  drags 
His  palled  unwilling  appetite.     If  gold, 
Gleaming  around,  and  numerous  viands  culled 
From  every  clime,  could  force  the  loathing  sense 
To  overcome  satiety, — if  wealth, 
The  spring  it  draws  from  poisons  not, — or  vice, 


4  QUEEN  MAB.  III. 

Unfeeling,  stubborn  vice,  converteth  not 
Its  food  to  deadliest  venom ;  then  that  king 
Is  happy ;  and  the  peasant  who  fulfills 
His  unforced  task,  when  he  returns  at  even, 
And  by  the  blazing  faggot  meets  again 
Her  welcome  for  whom  all  his  toil  is  sped, 
Tastes  not  a  sweeter  meal. 

Behold  him  now 
Stretched  on  the  gorgeous  couch ;  his  fevered 

brain 
Reels  dizzily  awhile  :  But,  ah  !  too  soon 
The  slumber  of  intemperance  subsides, 
And  conscience,  that  undying  serpent,  calls 
Her  venomous  brood  to  their  nocturnal  task. 
Listen !  he  speaks !  oh !  mark  that  frenzied  eye— 
Oh  !  mark  that  deadly  visage. 

KING. 

"  No  cessation  ! 
Oh  !  must  this  last  for  ever  !  Awful  death, 
I  wish,  yet  fear  to  clasp  thee  !-— Not  one  moment 
Of  dreamless  sleep !  O  dear  and  blessed  peace  ! 
Why  dost  thou  shroud  thy  vestal  purity 
In  penury  and  dungeons  !  wherefore  lurkest 
With  danger,  death,  and  solitude  ;  yet  shunn'st 
The  palace  I  have  built  thee  ?  Sacred  peace ! 
Oh  visit  me  but  once,  but  pitying  shed 
One  drop  of  balm  upon  my  withered  soul." 

Vain  man  !  that  palace  is  the  virtuous  heart, 
And  peace  defileth  not  her  snowy  robes 


III.  QUEEN  MAB.  25 

In  such  a  shed  as  thine.    Hark !  yet  he  mutters  ; 

His  slumbers  are  but  varied  agonies, 

They  prey  like  scorpions  on  the  springs  of  life. 

There  needeth  not  the  hell  that  bigots  frame 

To  punish  those  who  err :  earth  in  itself 

Contains  at  once  the  evil  and  the  cure  ; 

And  all-sufficing  nature  can  chastise 

Those  who  transgress  her  law, — she  only  knows 

How  justly  to  proportion  to  the  fault 

The  punishment  it  merits. 

Is  it  strange 
That  this  poor  wretch  should  pride  him  in  his 

woe? 
Take  pleasure  in  his  abjectness,  and  hug 
The  scorpion  that  consumes  him  ?  Is  it  strange 
That,  placed  on  a  conspicuous  throne  of  thorns, 
Grasping  an  iron  sceptre,  and  immured 
Within  a  splendid  prison,  whose  stern  bounds 
Shut  him  from  all  that's  good  or  dear  on  earth, 
His  soul  asserts  not  its  humanity  ? 
That  man's  mild  nature  rises  not  in  war 
Against  a  king's  employ  1  No — 'tis  not  strange. 
He,  like  the  vulgar,  thinks,  feels,  acts,  and  lives 
Just  as  his  father  did ;  the  unconquered  powers 
Of  precedent  and  custom  interpose 
Between  a  king  and  virtue.    Stranger  yet, 
To  those  who  know  not  nature,  nor  deduce 
The  future  from  the  present,  it  may  seem, 
That  not  one  slave,  who  suffers  from  the  crimes 
Of  this  unnatural  being  ;  not  one  wretch, 
Whose  children  famish,  and  whose  nuptial  bed 


26  QUEEN  MAB.  111. 

In  earth's  unpitying  bosom,  rears  an  arm 
To  dash  him  from  his  throne  ! 

Those  gilded  flies 
That,  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  a  court, 
Fatten  on  its  corruption  ! — what  are  they  ? 
— The  drones  of  the  community  ;  they  feed 
On  the  mechanic's  labour  :  the  starved  hind 
For  them  compels  the  stubborn  glebe  to  yield 
Its  unshared  harvests  ;  and  yon  squalid  form, 
Leaner  than  fleshless  misery,  that  wastes 
A  sunless  life  in  the  unwholesome  mine, 
Drags  out  in  labour  a  protracted  death, 
To  glut  their  grandeur  ;  many  faint  with  toil, 
That  few  may  know  the  cares  and  woes  of  sldth. 

Whence,  thinkestthou,  kings  and  parasites  arose? 
Whence  that  unnatural  line  of  drones,  who  heap 
Toil  and  un  vanquish  able  penury 
On  those  who  build  their  palaces,  and  bring 
Their  daily  bread  ? — From  vice,  black  loathsome 

vice; 
From  rapine,  madness,  treachery,  and  wrong ; 
From  all  that  genders  misery,  and  makes 
Of  earth  this  thorny  wilderness  ;  from  lust, 
Revenge,  and  murder And  when  reason's 

voice, 
Loud  as  the  voice  of  nature,  shall  have  waked 
The  nations ;  and  mankind  perceive  that  vice 
Is  discord,  war,  and  misery ;  that  virtue 
Is  peace,  and  happiness,  and  harmony ; 


///.  QUEEN  MAB.  27 

When  man's  maturer  nature  shall  disdain 

The  playthings  of  its  childhood  ; — kingly  glare 

Will  lose  its  power  to  dazzle ;  its  authority 

Will  silently  pass  by ;  the  gorgeous  throne 

Shall  stand  unnoticed  in  the  regal  hall, 

Fast  falling  to  decay ;  whilst  falsehood's  trade 

Shall  be  as  hateful  and  unprofitable 

As  that  of  truth  is  now . 

Where  is  the  fame 
Which  the  vain-glorious  mighty  of  the  earth 
Seek  to  eternize  ?  Oh  !  the  faintest  sound 
From  time's  light  footfall,  the  minutest  wave 
That  swells  the  flood  of  ages,  whelms  in  nothing 
The  unsubstantial  bubble.     Aye  !  to-day 
Stern  is  the  tyrant's  mandate,  red  the  gaze 
That  flashes  desolation,  strong  the  arm 
That  scatters  multitudes.    To-morrow  comes  I 
That  mandate  is  a  thunder-peal  that  died 
In  ages  past ;  that  gaze,  a  transient  flash 
On  which  the  midnight  closed,  and  on  that  arm 
The  worm  has  made  his  meal. 

The  virtuous  man,. 
Who,  great  in  his  humility,  as  kings 
Are  little  in  their  grandeur  ;  he  who  leads 
Invincibly  a  life  of  resolute  good, 
And  stands  amid  the  silent  dungeon-depths 
More  free  and  fearless  than  the  trembling  judge. 
Who,  clothed  in  venal  power,  vainly  strove 
To  bind  the  impassive  spirit  j — when  he  falls, 
C 


28  QUEEN  MAB.  III. 

His  mild  eye  beams  benevolence  no  more  : 
Withered  the  hand  outstretched  but  to  relieve  ; 
Sunk  reason's  simple  eloquence  that  rolled 
But  to  appal  the  guilty.    Yes !  the  grave 
Hath  quenched  that  eye,  and  death's  relentless 

frost 
Withered  that  arm  :  but  the  unfading  fame 
Which  virtue  hangs  upon  its  votary's  tomb  ; 
The  deathless  memory  of  that  man,  whom  kings 
Call  to  their  mind  and  tremble  ;  the  remembrance 
With  which  the  happy  spirit  contemplates 
Its  well-spent  pilgrimage  on  earth, 
Shall  never  pass  away. 

Nature  rejects  the  monarch,  not  the  man  ; 
The  subject  not  the  citizen  :  for  kings 
And  subjects,  mutual  foes,  for  ever  play 
A  losing  game  into  each  other's  hands, 
Whose  stakes  are  vice  and  misery.    The  man 
Of  virtuous  soul  commands  not,  nor  obeys. 
Power,  like  a  desolating  pestilence, 
Pollutes  whate'er  it  touches  ;  and  obedience, 
Bane  of  all  genius,  virtue,  freedom,  truth, 
Makes  slaves  of  men,  and,  of  the  human  frame, 
A  mechanized  automaton. 

When  Nero, 
High  over  flaming  Rome,  with  savage  joy 
Lowered  like  a  fiend,  drank  with  enraptured  ear 
The  shrieks  of  agonizing  death,  beheld 
The  frightful  desolation  spread,  and  felt 


III.  QUEEN  MAB.  29 

A  new  created  sense  within  his  soul 
Thrill  to  the  sight,  and  vibrate  to  the  sound ; 
Thinkest  thou  his  grandeur  had  not  overcome 
The  force  of  human  kindness  1  and,  when  Rome, 
With  one  stern  blow,  hurled  not  the  tyrant  down, 
Crushed  not  the  arm  red  with  her  dearest  blood, 
Had  not  submissive  abjectness  destroyed 
Nature's  suggestions? 

Look  on  yonder  earth  : 
The  golden  harvests  spring  ;  the  unfailing  sun 
Sheds  light  and  life  ;  the  fruits,  the  flowers,  the 

trees, 
Arise  in  due  succession  ;  all  things  speak 
Peace,  harmony,  and  love.    The  universe, 
In  nature's  silent  eloquence,  declares 
That  all  fulfil  the  works  of  love  and  joy, — 
All  but  the  outcast  man.    He  fabricates 
The  sword  which  stabs  his  peace  ;  he  cherisheth 
The  snakes  that  gnaw  his  heart !  he  raiseth  up 
The  tyrant,  whose  delight  is  in  his  woe, 
Whose  sport  is  in  his  agony.    Yon  sun, 
Lights  it  the  great  alone  1  Yon  silver  beams, 
Sleep  they  less  sweetly  on  the  cottage  thatch, 
Than  on  the  dome  of  kings  ?  Is  mother  earth 
A  step-dame  to  her  numerous  sons,  who  earn 
Her  unshared  gifts  with  unremitting  toil ; 
A  mother  only  to  those  puling  babes 
Who,  nursed  in  ease  and  luxury,  make  men 
The  playthings  of  their  babyhood,  and  mar, 
In  self-important  childishness,  that  peace 
Which  men  alone  appreciate  1 
c  2 


30  QUEEN  MAB.  III. 

Spirit  of  Nature  !  no. 
The  pure  diffusion  of  thy  essence  throbs 
Alike  in  every  human  heart. 

Thou,  aye,  erectest  there 
Thy  throne  of  power  unappealable : 
Thou  art  the  judge  beneath  whose  nod 
Man's  brief  and  frail  authority 
Is  powerless  as  the  wind 
That  passeth  idly  by. 
Thine  the  tribunal  which  surpasseth 
The  shew  of  human  justice, 
As  God  surpasses  man. 

Spirit  of  Nature  !  thou 
Life  of  interminable  multitudes  ; 
Soul  of  those  mighty  spheres 
Whose  changeless  paths  thro'  Heaven's  deep 
silence  lie ; 
Soul  of  that  smallest  being, 

The  dwelling  of  whose  life 
Is  one  faint  April  sun-gleam ; — 
Man,  like  these  passive  things, 
Thy,  will  unconsciously  fulfilleth  : 
Like  their's,  his  age  of  endless  peace, 
Which  time  is  fast  maturing, 
Will  swiftly,  surely  come  ; 
And  the  unbounded  frame,  which  thou  per- 
vadest, 
Will  be  without  a  flaw 
Marring  its  perfect  symmetry. 


IV.  QUERN  MAB.  31 


IV. 


How  beautiful  this  night !  the  balmiest  sigh, 
Which  vernal  zephyrs  breathe  in  evening's  ear, 
Were  discord  to  the  speaking  quietude 
That  wraps  this  moveless  scene.    Heaven's  ebon 

vault, 
Studded  with  stars  unutterably  bright, 
Through  which  the  moon's  unclouded  grandeur 

rolls, 
Seems  like  a  canopy  which  love  has  spread 
To  curtain  her  sleeping  world.    Yon  gentle  hills, 
Robed  in  a  garment  of  untrodden  snow  ; 
You  darksome  rocks,  whence  icicles  depend, 
So  stainless,  that  their  white  and  glittering  spires 
Tinge  not  the  moon's  pure  beam  ;  yon  castled 

steep, 
Whose  banner  hangeth  o'er  the  time-worn  tower 
So  idly,  that  rapt  fancy  deemeth  it 
A  metaphor  of  peace  ; — all  form  a  scene 
Where  musing  solitude  might  love  to  lift 
Her  soul  above  this  sphere  of  earthliness  ; 
Where  silence  undisturbed  might  watch  alone, 
So  cold,  so  bright,  so  still. 
3  c 


32  QUEEN  MAB.  IV. 

The  orb  of  day, 
In  southern  climes,  o'er  ocean's  waveless  field 
Sinks  sweetly  smiling  :  not  the  faintest  breath 
Steals  o'er  the  unruffled  deep  ;  the  clouds  of  eve 
Reflect  unmoved  the  lingering  beam  of  day  ; 
And  vesper's  image  on  the  western  main 
Is  beautifully  still.    To-morrow  comes  : 
Cloud  upon^cloud,  in  dark  and  deepening  mass, 
Roll  o'er  the  blackened  waters  ;  the  deep  roar 
Of  distant  thunder  mutters  awfully  ; 
Tempest  unfolds  its  pinion  o'er  the  gloom 
That: shrouds  the  boiling  surge;  the  pityless  fiend, 
With  all  his  winds  and  lightnings,  tracks  his  prey ; 
The  torn  deep  yawns, — the  vessel  findsla  grave 
Beneath  its  jagged  gulf. 

Ah  !  whence  yon  glare 
That  fires  the  arch  of  heaven? — that  dark  red 

smoke 
Blotting  the  silver  moon?  The  starsjare  quenched 
In  darkness,  and  the  pure  and  spangling  snow 
Oleams  faintly  through  the  gloom  that  gathers 

round ! 
Hark  to  that  roar,    whose  swift  and  deafening 

peals 
In  countless  echoes  through  the  mountains  ring, 
Startling  pale  midnight  on  her  starry  throne ! 
Now  swells  the  intermingling  din  ;  the  jar 
Frequent  and  frightful  of  the  bursting  bomb ; 
The  falling  beam,  the  shriek,  the  groan,  the  shout, 
The  ceaseless  clangour,  and  the  rush  of  men 
Inebriate  with  rage :— loud,  and  more  loud 


f F.  QUEEN  MAB,  33 

The  discord  grows;  till  pale  death  shuts  the 

scene, 
And  o'er  the  conqueror  and  the. conquered  draws 
His  cold  and  bloody  shroud. — Of  all  the  men 
Whom  day's  departing  beam  saw  blooming  there, 
In  proud  and  vigorous  health ;  of  all  the  hearts 
That  beat  with  anxious  life  at  sun-set  there ; 
How  few  survive,  how  few  are  beating  now  ! 
All  is  deep  silence,  iike  the  fearful  calm 
That  slumbers  in  the  storms  portentous  pause ; 
Save  when  the  frantic  wail  of  widowed  love 
Comes  shuddering  on  the  blast,  or  the  faint  moan 
With  which  some  soul  bursts  from  the  frame  of 

clay 
Wrapt  round  its  struggling  powers- 

The  grey  morn 
Dawns  on  the  mournful  scene ;  the  sulphurous 

smoke 
Before  the  icy  wind  slow  rolls  away, 
And  the  bright  beams  of  frosty  morning  dance 
Along  the  spangling  snow.  There  tracks  of  blood 
Even  to  the  forest's  depth,  and  scattered  arms, 
And  lifeless  warriors,  whose  hard  lineaments 
Death's  self  could  change  not,  mark  the  dreadful 

path 
Of  the  outsallying  victors  :  far  behind, 
Black  ashes  note  where  their  proud  city  stood. 
Within  yon  forest  is  a  gloomy  glen — 
Each  tree  which  guards  its  darkness  from  the  day, 
Waves  o'er  a  warrior's  tomb. 


34,  QUEEN  MAB.  IV. 

I  see  thee  shrink, 
Surpassing  Spirit ! — wert  thou  human  else  ? 
I  see  a  shade  of  doubt  and  horror  fleet 
Across  thy  stainless  features :  yet  fear  not ; 
This  is  no  unconnected  misery, 
Nor  stands  uncaused,  and  irretrievable. 
Man's  evil  nature,  that  apology 
Which  kings  who  rule,  and  cowards  who  crouch, 

set  up 
For  their  unnumbered  crimes,  sheds  not  the  blood 
Which  desolates  the  discord-wasted  land. 
From  kings,  and  priests,  and  statesmen,  war  arose, 
Whose  safety  is  man's  deep  unbettered  woe, 
Whose  grandeur  is  debasement.     Let  the  axe 
Strike  at  the  root,  the  poison-tree  will  fall ; 
And  where  its  venomed  exhalations  spread 
Ruin,  and  death,  and  woe,  where  millions  lay 
Quenching  the  serpent's  famine,  and  their  bones 
Bleaching  unburied  in  the  putrid  blast, 
A  garden  shall  arise,  in  loveliness 
Surpassing  fabl.ed.Eden. 

Hath  Nature's  soul, 
That  formed  this  world  so  beautiful,  that  spread 
Earth's  lap  with  plenty,  and  life's  smallest  chord 
Strung  to  unchanging  unison,  that  gave 
The  happy  birds  their  dwelling  in  the  grove, 
That  yielded  to  the  wanderers  of  the  deep 
The  lovely  silence  of  the  unfathomed  main, 
And  filled  the  meanest  worm  that  crawls  in  dust 
With  spirit,  thought,  and  love  ;  on  Man  alone, 
Partial  in  causeless  malice,  wantonly 


IV.  -QUEEN  MAB.  35 

Heaped  min,  vice,  and  slavery;  his  soul 
Blasted  with  withering  curses  ;  placed  afar 
The  meteor  happiness,  that  shuns  his  grasp, 
But  serving  on  the  frightful  gulph  to  glare, 
Rent  wide  beneath  his  footsteps  1 

Nature  ! — no  ! 
Kings,  priests,  and  statesmen,  blast  the  humaa 

flower 
Even  in  its  tender  bud ;  their  influence  darts 
Like  subtle  poison  through  the  bloodless  veins 
Of  desolate  society.    The  child, 
Ere  he  can  lisp  his  mother's  sacred  name, 
Swells  with  the  unnatural  pride  of  crime,  and 

lifts 
His  baby-sword  even  in  a  hero's  mood. 
This  infant-arm  becomes  the  bloodiest  scourge 
Of  devastated  earth;  whilst  specious  names, 
Learnt  in  soft  childhood's  unsuspecting  hour, 
"Serve  as  the  sophisms  with  which  manhood  dims 
Bright  reason's  ray,  and  sanctifies  the  sword 
Upraised  to  shed  a  brother's  innocent  blood. 
Let  priest-led  slaves  cease  to  proclaim  that  man 
Inherits  vice  and  misery,  when  force 
And  falsehood  hang  even  o'er  the  cradled  babe, 
Stifling  with  rudest  grasp  all  natural  good. 

Ah  !  to  the  stranger-soul,  when  first  it  peeps 
From  its  new  tenement,  and  looks  abroad 
For  happiness  and  sympathy,  how  stern 
And  desolate  a  tract  is  this  wide  world ! 
How  withered  all  the  buds  of  natural  good ! 


36  QUEEN  MAB.  IV. 

No  shade,  no  shelter  from  the  sweeping  storms 
Of  pityless  power !  On  its  wretched  frame, 
Poisoned,  perchance,  by  the  disease  and  woe 
Heaped  on  the  wretched  parent  whence  it  sprung 
By  morals,  law,  and  custom,  the  pure  winds 
Of  heaven,  that  renovate,  the  insect  tribes, 
May  breathe  not.    The  untainting  light  of  day 
May  visit  not  its  longings.    It  is  bound 
Ere  it  has  life :  yea,  all  the  chains  are  forged 
Long  ere  its  being :  all  liberty  and  love 
And  peace  is  torn  from  its  defencelessness  ; 
Cursed  from  its  birth,    even   from   its  cradle 

doomed 
To  abjectness  aud  bondage  ! 

Throughout  this  varied  and  eternal  world 

Soul  is  the  only  element,  the  block 

That  for  uncounted  ages  has  remained, 

The  moveless  pillar  of  a  mountain's  weight 

Is  active  living  spirit.    Every  grain 

Is  sentient  both  in  unity  and  part, 

And  the  minutest  atom  comprehends 

A  world  of  loves  and  hatreds ;  these  beget 

Evil    and   good:    hence  truth    and   falsehood 

spring  ; 
Hence  will,  and  thought,  and  action,  all  the  germs 
Of  pain  or  pleasure,  sympathy  or  hate, 
That  variegate  the  eternal  universe. 
Soul  is  not  more  polluted  than  the  beams 
Of  Heaven's  pure  orb,  ere  round  their  rapid 

lines 


IV.  QUEEN  MAB.  37 

The  taint  of  earth-born  atmospheres  arise. 

Man  is  of  soul  and  body,  formed  for  deeds 

Of  high  resolve,  on  fancy's  boldest  wing 

To  soar  unwearied,  fearlessly  to  turn 

The  keenest  pangs  to  peacefulness,  and  taste 

The  joys  which  mingled  sense  and  spirit  yield. 

Or  he  is  formed  for  abjectness  and  "woe, 

To  grovel  on  the  dunghill  of  his  fears, 

To  shrink  at  every  sound,  to  quench  the  flame 

Of  natural  love  in  sensualism,  to  know 

That  hour  as  blest  when  on  his  worthless  days 

The  frozen  hand  of  death  shall  set  its  seal, 

Yet  fear  the  cure  though  hating  the  disease. 

The  one  is  man  that  shall  hereafter  be ; 

The  other,  man  as  vice  has  made  him  now. 


War  is  the  statesman's  game,  the  priest's  delight, 
The  lawyer's  jest,  the  hired  assassin's  trade, 
And,  to    those    royal   murderers,  whose    mean 

thrones 
Are  bought  by  crimes  of  treachery  and  gore, 
The  bread  they  eat,  the  staff  on  which  they  lean. 
Guards,  garbed  in  blood-red  livery,  surround 
Their  palaces,  participate  the  crimes 
That  force  defends,  and  from  a  nation's  rage 
Secures  the  crown,  which  all  the  curses  re^ch 
That  famine,  frenzy,  woe,  and  penury  breathe. 
These  are  the  hired  bravos  who  defend 
The  tyrant's  throne — the  bullies  of  his  fear ; 
These  arc  the  sinks  and  channels  of  worst  vice, 
The  refuse  of  society,  the  dregs 


38  QUEEN  MAB.  IV. 

Of  all  that  is  most  rile  :  their  cold  hearts  blend 
Deceit  with  sternness,  ignorance  with  pride, 
All  that  is  mean  and  villainous,  with  rage 
Which  hopelessness  of  good,  and  self-eontempt, 
Alone  might  kindle  ;  they  are  decked  in  wealth, 
Honour  and  power,  then  are  sent  abroad 
To  do  their  work.    The  pestilence  that  stalks 
In  gloomy  triumph  through  some  eastern  land 
Is  less  destroying.    They  cajole  with  gold, 
And  promises  of  fame,  the  thoughtless  youth 
Already  crushed  with  servitude :  he  knows 
His  wretchedness  too  late,  and  cherishes 
Repentence  for  his  ruin,  when  his  doom 
Is  sealed  in  gold  and  blood  ! 
Those  too  the  tyrant  serve,  who  skilled  to  snare 
The  feet  of  justice  in  the  toils  of  law, 
Stand,  ready  to  oppress  the  weaker  still  ,♦ 
And,  right  or  wrong,  will  vindicate  for  gold, 
Sneering  at  public  virtue,  which  beneath 
Their  pityless  tread  lies  torn  and  trampled,  where 
Honour  sits  smiling  at  the  sale  of  truth. 

Then  grave  and  hoary-headed  hypocrites, 
Without  a  hope,  a  passion,  or  a  love, 
Who,  through  a  life  of  luxury  and  lies, 
Have  crept  by  flattery  to  the  seats  of  power, 
Support  the  system  whence  their  honours  flow-^- 
They  have  three  words : — well  tyrants  know  their 

use, 
Well  pay  them  for  the  loan,  with  ussry 
Torn  from  a  bleeding  world  I  God,  Hell,  and 

Heaven. 


IV.  QUEEN  MAB.  39 

A  vengeful,  pityless,  and  Almighty  Fiend, 
Whose  mercy  is  a  nick-name  for  the  rage 
Of  tameless  tygers  hungering  for  blood. 
Hell,  a  red  gulf  of  everlasting  fire, 
Where  poisonous  and  undying  worms  prolong 
Eternal  misery  to  those  hapless  slaves 
Whose  life  has  been  a  penance  for  its  crimes. 
And  Heaven,  a  meed  for  those  who  dare  belie 
Their  human  nature,  quake,  believe,  and  cringe 
Before  the  mockeries  of  earthly  power. 

These  tools  the  tyrant  tempers  to  his  work, 
Wields  in  his  wrath,  and  as  he  wills  destroys, 
Omnipotent  in  wickedness :  the  while 
Youth   springs,  age  moulders,  manhood  tamely 

does 
His  bidding,  bribed  by  short-lived  joys  to  lend 
Force  to  the  weakness  of  his  trembling  arm. 

They  rise,  they  fall ;  one  generation  comes 
Yielding  its  harvest  to  destruction's  scythe. 
It  fades,  another  blossoms,  yet  behold ! 
Red  glows  the  tyrant's  stamp-mark  on  its  bloom, 
Withering  and  cankering  deep  its  passive  prime. 
He  has  invented  lying  words  and  modes, 
Empty  and  vain  as  his  own  coreless  heart ; 
Evasive  meanings,  nothings  ofmnch  sound, - 
To  lure  the  heedless  victim  to  the  toils 
Spread  round  the  valley  of  its  paradise. 
Look  to  thyself,  priest,  conqueror,  or  prince  ! 
Whether  thy  trade  is  falsehood,  and  thy  lusts 
D 


40  QUEEN  MAB.  IV. 

Deep  wallow  in  the  earnings  of  the  poor, 
With  whom  thy  master  was  : — or  thou  delight'st 
In  numbering  o'er  the  myriads  of  thy  slain, 
All  misery  weighing  nothing  in  the  scale 
Against  thy  short-lived  fame :  or  thou  dost  load 
With  cowardice  and  crime  the  groaning  land, 
A  pomp-fed  king.     Look  to  thy  wretched  self ! 
Aye,  art  thou  not  the  veriest  slave  that  e'er 
Crawled  on  the  loathing  earth  ?  Are  not  thy  days 
Days  of  unsatisfying  listlessness  ? 
Dost  thou  not  cry,  ere  night's  long  rack  is  o'er, 
When  will  the  morning  come  ?  Is  not  thy  youth 
A  vain  and  feverish  dream  of  sensualism  ? 
Thy  manhood  blighted  with  unripe  disease  ? 
Are  not  thy  views  of  unregretted  death 
Drear,  comfortless,  and  horrible  1  Thy  mind 
Is  it  not  morbid  as  thy  nerveless  frame, 
Incapable  of  judgment,  hope,  or  love  ? 
And  dost  thou  wish  the  errors  to  survive 
That  bar  thee  from  all  sympathies  of  good, 
After  the  miserable  interest 
Thou  hold'st  in  their  protraction  ?  When  the  grave 
Has  swallowed  up  thy  memory  and  thyself, 
Dost  thou  desire  the  bane  that  poisons  earth 
To  twine  its  roots  around  thy  coffined  clay, 
Spring  from  thy  bones,  and  blossom  on  thy  tomb, 
That  of  its  fruit  thy  babes  may  eat  and  die  1 


V.  QUEEN  MAB,  41 


Thus  do  the  generations  of  the  earth 
Go  to  the  grave,  and  issue  from  the  womb, 
Surviving  still  the  imperishable  change 
That  renovates  the  world ;  even  as  the  leaves 
Which  the  keen  frost-wind  of  the  waning  year 
Has  scattered  on  the  forest  soil,  and  heaped 
For  many  seasons  there,  though  long  they  choke, 
Loading  with  loathsome  rottenness  the  land, 
All  germs  of  promise.     Yet  when  the  tall  trees 
From  which  they  fell,  shorn  of  their  lovely  shapes, 
Lie  level  with  the  earth,  to  moulder  there, 
They  fertilize  the  land  they  long  deformed, 
Till  from  the  breathing  lawn  a  forest  springs, 
Of  youth,  integrity,  and  loveliness, 
Like  that  which  gave  it  life,  to  spring  and  die. 
Thus  suicidal  selfishness,  that  blights 
The  fairest  feelings  of  the  opening  heart, 
Is  destined  to  decay,  whilst  from  the  soil 
Shall  spring  all  virtue,  all  delight,  all  love, 
And  judgment  cease  to  wage  unnatural  war 
With  passion's  unsubduable  array. 

Twin-sister  of  religion,  selfishness  ! 
Rival  in  crime  and  falsehood,  aping  all 
D2 


42  QUEEN  MAB.  V. 

The  wanton  horrors  of  her  bloody  play ; 
Yetfrozen,  unimpassioned,  spiritless, 
Shunning  the  light,  and  owning  not  its  name, 
Compelled,  by  its  deformity,  to  screen 
With  flimsy  veil  of  justice  and  of  right, 
Its  unattractive  lineaments,  that  scare 
All,  save  the  brood  of  ignorance :  at  once 
The  cause  and  the  effect  of  tyranny  ; 
Unblushing,  hardened,  sensual,  and  vile  ; 
Dead  to  all  love  but  of  its  abjectness. 
With  heart  impassive  by  more  noble  powers 
Than  unshared  pleasure,  sordid  gain,  or  fame ; 
Despising  its  own  miserable  being, 
Which  still  it  longs,  yet  fears  to  disenthrall. 

Hence  commerce  springs,  the  venal  interchange 
Of  all  that  human  art  or  nature  yield ; 
Which  wealth  should  purchase  not,  but  want  de- 
mand, 
And  natural  kindness  hasten  to  supply 
From  the  full  fountain  of  ils  boundless  love, 
For  ever  stifled,  drained,  and  tainted  now. 
Commerce,  beneath  whose  poison-breathing  shade 
No  solitary  virtue  dares  to  spring, 
But  poverty  and  wealth  with  equal  hand 
Scatter  their  withering  curses,  and  unfold 
The  doors  of  premature  and  violent  death, 
To  pining  famine  and  full-fed  disease, 
To  all  that  shares  the  lot  of  human  life, 
Which  poisoned  body  and  soul,  scarce  drags  the 
chain. 


V.  QUEEN  MAB.  43 

That  lengthens  as  it  goes,  and  clanks  behind. 
Commerce  has  set  the  mark  of  selfishness, 
The  signet  of  its  all-enslaving  power 
Upon  a  shining  ore,  and  called  it  gold  : 
Before  whose  image  bow  the  vulgar  great, 
The  vainly  rich,  the  miserable  proud, 
The  mob  of  peasants,  nobles,  priests,  and  kings, 
And  with  blind  feelings  reverence  the  power 
That  grinds  them  to  the  dust  of  misery. 
But  in  the  temple  of  their  hireling  hearts 
Gold  is  a  living  god,  and  rules  in  scorn 
All  earthly  things  but  virtue. 

Since  tyrants,  by  the  sale  of  human  life, 
Heap  luxuries  to  their  sensualism,  and  fame 
To  their  wide-wasting  and  insatiate  pride, 
Success  has  sanctioned  to  a  credulous  world 
The  ruin,  the  disgrace,  the  woe  of  war. 
His  hosts  of  blind  and  unresisting  dupes 
The  despot  numbers  ;  from  his  cabinet 
These  puppets  of  his  schemes  he  moves  at  will, 
Even  as  the  slaves  by  force  or  famine  driven, 
Beneath  a  vulgar  master,  to  perform 
A  task  of  cold  and  brutal  drudgery  ; 
Hardened  to  hope,  insensible  to  fear, 
Scarce  living  pullies  of  a  dead  machine, 
Mere  wheels  of  work  and  articles  of  trade, 
That  grace  the  proud  and  noisy  pomp  of  wealth, I 

The  harmony  and  happiness  of  man 
Yields  to  the  wealth  of  nations  ;  that  which  lifts 
D3 


44  QUEEN  MAB.  V. 

His  nature  to  the  heaven  of  its  pride, 

Is  bartered  for  the  poison  of  his  soul  ; 

The  weight  that  drags  to  earth  his  towering  hopes, 

Blighting  all  prospect  but  of  selfish  gain, 

Withering  all  passion  but  of  slavish  fear, 

Extinguishing  all  free  and  generous  love 

Of  enterprize  and  daring,  even  the  pulse 

That  fancy  kindles  in  the  beating  beart 

To  mingle  with  sensation,  it  destroys — 

Leaves  nothing  but  the  sordid  lust  of  self, 

The  grovelling  hope  of  interest  and  gold, 

Unqualified,  unmingled,  unredeemed 

Even  by  hypocrisy. 

And  statesmen  boast 
Of  wealth  !  The  wordy  eloquence  that  lives 
After  the  ruin  of  their  hearts,  can  gild 
The  bitter  poison  of  a  nation's  woe  ! 
Can  turn  the  worship  of  the  servile  mob 
To  their  corrupt  and  glaring  idol  fame, 
From  virtue,  trampled  by  its  iron  tread, 
Although  its  dazzling  pedestal  be  raised 
Amid  the  horrors  of  a  limb-strewn  field, 
With  desolated  dwellings  smoking  round. 
The  man  of  ease,  who,  by  his  warm  fire-side, 
To  deeds  of  charitable  intercourse 
And  bare  fulfilment  of  the  common  laws 
Of  decency  and  prejudice,  confines 
The  struggling  nature  of  his  human  heart, 
Is  duped  by  their  cold  sophistry ;  he  she  is 
A  passing  tear  perchance  upon  the  wreck 


V.  QUEEN  MAB.  45 

Of  earthly  peace,  when  near  his  dwelling's  door 
The  frightful  waves  are  driven — when  his  son 
Is  murdered  by  the  tyrant,  or  religion 
Drives  his  wife  raving  mad. — But  the  poor  man, 
Whose  life  is  misery,  and  fear,  and  care ; 
Whom  the  morn  wakens  but  to  fruitless  toil ; 
Who  ever  hears  his  famished  offspring's  scream, 
Whom  their  pale  mother's  uncomplaining  gaze 
For  ever  meets,  and  the  proud  rich  man's  eye 
Flashing  command,  and  the  heart-breaking  scene 
Of  thousands  like  himself; — he  little  heeds 
The  rhetoric  of  tyranny  ;  his  hate 
Is  quenchless  as  his  wrongs  ;  he  laughs  to  scorn 
The  vain  and  bitter  mockery  of  words, 
Feeling  the  horror  of  the  tyrant's  deeds, 
And  unrestrained,  but  by  the  arm  of  power, 
That  knows  and  dreads  his  enmity. 

The  iron  rod  of  penury  still  compels 

Her  wretched  slave  to  bow  the  knee  to  wealth, 

And  poison,  with  unprofitable  toil, 

A  life  too  void  of  solace  to  confirm 

The  very  chains  that  bind  him  to  his  doom. 

Nature,  impartial  in  munificence, 

Has  gifted  man  with  all-subduing  will. 

Matter,  with  all  its  transitory  shapes, 

Lies  subjected  and  plastic  at  his  feet, 

That,  weak  from  bondage,  tremble  as  they  tread. 

How  many  a  rustic  Milton  has  past  by, 

Stifling  the  speechless  longings  of  his  heart, 

In  unremitting  drudgery  and  care  ! 


46  QUEEN  MAB.  V. 

How  many  a  vulgar  Cato  has  compelled 
His  energies,  no  longer  tameless  then, 
To  mould  a  pin,  or  fabricate  a  nail ! 
How  many  a  Newton,  to  whose  passive  ken 
Those  mighty  spheres  that  gem  infinity 
Were  only  species  of  tinsel,  fixed  in  heaven 
To  light  the  midnights  of  his  native  town ! 

Yet  every  heart  contains  perfection's  germ : 
The  wisest  of  the  sages  of  the  earth, 
That  ever  from  the  stores  of  reason  drew 
Science  and  truth,  and  virtue's  dreadless  tone, 
Were  but  a  weak  and  inexperienced  boy, 
Froud,  sensual,  unimpassioned,  unimbued 
With  pure  desire  and  universal  love, 
Compared  to  that  high  being,  of  cloudless  brain, 
Untainted  passion,  elevated  will, 
Which  death  (who  even  would  linger  long  in  awe, 
Within  his  noble  presence,  and  beneath 
His  changeless  eyebeam)  might  alone  subdue. 
Him,  every  slave  now  dragging  through  the  filth 
Of  some  corrupted  city  his  sad  life, 
Pining  with  famine,  swoln  with  luxury, 
Blunting  the  keenness  of  his  spiritual  sense 
With  narrow  schemings  and  unworthy  cares, 
Or  madly  rushing  through  all  violent  crime, 
To  move  the  deep  stagnation  of  his  soul — 
Might  imitate  and  equal. 

But  mean  lust 
Has  bound  its  chains  so  tight  around  the  earth, 


V.  QUEEN  MAB.  47 

That  all  within  it  but  the  virtuous  man 
Is  venal :  gold  or  fame  will  surely  reach 
The  price  prefixed  by  selfishness,  to  all 
But  him  of  resolute  and  unchanging  will ; 
Whom,  nor  the  plaudits  of  a  servile  crowd, 
Nor  the  vile  joys  of  tainting  luxury, 
Can  bribe  to  yield  his  elevated  soul 
To  tyranny  or  falsehood,  though  they  wield 
With  blood-red  hand  the  sceptre  of  the  world. 

All  things  are  sold :  the  very  light  of  heaven 

Is  venal:  earth's  unsparing  gifts  of  love, 

The  smallest  and  most  despicable  things 

That  lurk  in  the  abysses  of  the  deep, 

All  objects  of  our  life,  even  life  itself, 

And  the  poor  pittance  which  the  laws  allow 

Of  liberty,  the  fellowship  of  man, 

Those  duties  which  his  heart  of  human  love 

Should  urge  him  to  perform  instinctively, 

Are  bought  and  sold  as  in  a  public  mart 

Of  undisguising  selfishness,  that  sets 

On  each  its  priee,  the  stamp-mark  of  her  reign. 

Even  love  is  sold  ;  the  solace  of  all  woe 

Is  turned  to  deadliest  agony,  old  age 

Shivers  in  selfish  beauty's  loathing  arms, 

And  youth's  corrupted  impulses  prepare 

A  life  of  horror  from  the  blighting  bane 

Of  commerce  ;  whilst  the  pestilence  that  springs 

From  unenjoying  sensualism,  has  filled 

All  human  life  with  hydra-headed  woes. 


48  QUEEN  MAB.  V. 

Falsehood  demands  but  gold  to  pay  the  pangs 
Of  outraged  conscience  ;  for  the  slavish  priest 
Sets  no  great  value  on  his  hireling  faith : 
A  little  passingsjpomp,  some  servile  souls, 
Whom  cowardice  itself  might  safely  chain, 
Or  the  spare  mite  of  avarice  could  bribe 
To  deck  the  triumph  of  their  languid  zeal, 
Can  make  him  minister  to  tyranny. 
More  daring  crime  requires  a  loftier  meed: 
Without  a  shudder,  the  slave-soldier  lends 
His  arm  to  murderous  deeds,  and  steels  his  heart 
When  the  dread  eloquence  of  dying  men, 
Low  mingling  on  the  lonely  field  of  fame, 
Assails  that  nature,  whose  applause  he  sells 
For  the  gross  blessings  of  a  patriot  mob, 
For  the  vile  gratitude  of  heartless  kings, 
And  for  a  cold  world's  good  word — viler  still  1 

There  is  a  nobler  glory,  which  survives 
Until  our  being  fades,  and,  solacing 
All  human  care,  accompanies  its  change: 
Deserts  not  virtue  in  the  dungeon's  gloom, 
And,  in  the  precincts  of  the  palace,  guides 
Its  footsteps  through  that  labyrinth  of  crime  ; 
Imbues  his  lineaments  with  dauntlessness, 
Even  when,  from  power's  avenging  hand,  he 

takes 
Its  sweetest,  last,  and  noblest  title — death  ; 
The  consciousness  of  good,  which  neither  gold, 
Nor  sordid  fame,  nor  hope  of  heavenly  bliss, 
Can  purchase  ;  but  a  life  of  resolute  goed, 


V.  QUEEN  MAB.  49 

Unalterable  will,  quenchless  desire 
Of  universal  happiness,  the  heart 
That  beats  with  it  in  unison,  the  brain, 
Whose  ever  wakeful  wisdom  toils  to  change 
Reason's  rich  stores  for  its  eternal  weal. 

This  commerce  of  sincerest  virtue  needs 
No  mediative  signs  of  selfishness, 
No  jealous  intercourse  of  wretched  gain, 
No  balancings  of  prudence,  cold  and  long  ; 
In  just  and  equal  measure  all  is  weighed, 
One  scale  contains  the  sum  of  human  weal, 
And  one,  the  good  man's  heart. 

How  vainly  seek 
The  selfish  for  that  happiness  denied 
To  aught  but  virtue  !    Blind  and  hardened,  they, 
Who  hope  for  peace  amid  the  storms  of  care, 
Who  covet  power  they  know  not  how  to  use, 
And  sigh  for  pleasure  they  refuse  to  give — 
Madly  they  frustrate  still  their  own  designs  : 
And,  where  they  hope  that  quiet  to  enjoy 
Which  virtue  pictures,  bitterness  of  soul, 
Pining  regrets,  and  vain  repentances, 
Disease,  disgust,  and  lassitude,  pervade 
Their  valueless  and  miserable  lives. 

But  hoary-headed  selfishness  has  felt 
Its  death-blow,  and  is  tottering  to  the  grave  : 
A  brighter  morn  awaits  the  human  day, 
When  every  transfer  of  earth's  natural  gifts 


50  QUEEN  MAB.  V. 

Shall  be  a  commerce  of  good  words  and  works; 
When  poverty  and  wealth,  the  thirst  of  fame, 
The  fear  of  infamy,  disease,  and  woe, 
War  with  its  million  horrors,  and  fierce  hell 
Shall  live  but  in  the  memory  of  time, 
Who,  like  a  penitent  libertine,  shall  start, 
Look  back,  and  shudder  at  his  younger  years. 


QUEEN  MAB.  51 


VI. 


All  touch,  all  eye,  all  ear, 
The  Spirit  felt  the  Fairy's  burning  speech. 

O'er  the  thin  texture  of  its  frame, 
The  varying  periods  painted  changing  glows, 

As  on  a  summer  even, 
When  soul-enfolding  music  floats  around, 
The  stainless  mirror  of  the  lake 
Re-images  the  eastern  gloom, 
Mingling  convulsively  its  purple  hues 
With  sunset's  burnished  gold. 

Then  thus  the  Spirit  spoke  : 
It  is  a  wild  and  miserable  world  ! 
Thorny,  and  full  of  care, 
Which  every  fiend  can  make  his  prey  at  will. 
O  Fairy  !  in  the  lapse  of  years, 
Is  there  no  hope  in  store? 
Will  yon  vast  suns  roll  on 
Interminably,  still  illuming 
The  night  of  so  many  wretched  souls, 
And  see  no  hope  for  them? 
Will  not  the  universal  Spirit  e'er 
Revivify  this  withered  limb  of  Heaven? 
E 


&2  QUEEN  MAB.  VI. 

The  fairy  calmly  smiled 
In  comfort,  and  a  kindling  gleam  of  hope 

Suffused  the  Spirit's  lineaments. 
Oh !    rest  thee   tranquil  :    chase   those   fearful 

doubts, 
Which  ne'er  could  rack  an  everlasting  soul, 
That  sees  the  chains  which  bind  it  to  its  doom. 
Yes  !  crime  and  misery  are  in  yonder  earth, 

Falsehood,  mistake,  and  lust ; 

But  the  eternal  world 
Contains  at  once  the  evil  and  the  cure. 
Some  eminent  in  virtue  shall  start  up, 

Even  in  perversest  time  ; 
The  truths  of  their  pure  lips,  that  never  die, 
Shall  bind  the  scorpion  falsehood  with  a  wreath 

Of  ever-living  flame, 
Until  the  monster  sting  itself  to  death. 

How  sweet  a  scene  will  earth  become  ! 
Of  purest  spirits,  a  pure  dwelling-place, 
Symphonious  with  the  planetary  spheres, 
When  man,  with  changeless  nature  coalescing^ 
Will  undertake  regeneration's  work, 
When  its  ungenial  poles  no  longer  point 

To  the  red  and  baleful  sun 

That  faintly  twinkles  there. 

Spirit !  on  yonder  earth, 
Falsehood  now  triumphs  ;  deadly  power 

Has  fixed  its  seal  upon  the  lip  of  truth  ! 
Madness  and  misery  are  there  ! 

The  happiest  is  most  wretched  !  yet  confide, 


VI.  QUEEN   MAB.  53 

Until  pure  health-drops  from  the  cup  of  joy, 
Fall  like  a  dew  of  balm  upon  the  world. 
Now,  to  the  scene  I  shew,  in  silence  turn, 
And  read  the  blood-stained  charter  of  all  woe, 
Which  nature  soon,  with  recreating  hand, 
Will  blot  in  mercy  from  the  book  of  earth. 
How   bold   the   flight  of    passion's    wandering 

wing, 
How  swift  the  step  of  reason's  firmer  tread, 
How  calm  and  sweet  the  victories  of  life, 
How  terrorless  the  triumph  of  the  grave  ! 
How  powerless  were  the  mightiest  monarch's  arm, 
Vain  his  loud  threat,  and  impotent  his  frown  ! 
How  ludicrous  the  priest's  dogmatie  roar  ! 
The  weight  of  his  exterminating  curse, 
How  light !  and  his  affected  charity, 
To  suit  the  pressure  of  the  changing  times, 
What  palpable  deceit ! — but  for  thy  aid, 
Religion !  but  for  thee,  prolific  fiend, 
Who  peoplest  earth  with  demons,  hell  with  men, 
And  heaven  with  slaves  ! 

Thou  taintest  all  thou  lookest  upon  ! — the  stars, 
Which  on  thy  cradle  beamed  so  brightly  sweet, 
Were  gods  to  the  distempered  playfulness 
Of  thy  untutored  infancy :  the  trees, 
The  grass,  the  clouds,  the  mountains,  and  the  sea, 
All  living  things  that  walk,  swim,  creep,  or  fly, 
Were  gods  :  the  sun  had  homage,  and  the  moon 
Her  worshipper.    Then  thou  becamest,  a  boy, 
More  daring  in  thy  frenzies  :  every  shape, 
E2 


54  QUEEN  MAB.  VI. 

Monstrous  or  vast,  or  beautifully  wild, 
Which,  from  sensation's  relics,  fancy  culls  ; 
The  spirits  of  the  air,  the  shuddering  ghost, 
The  genii  of  the  elements,  the  powers 
That  give  a  shape  to  nature's  varied  works, 
Had  life  and  place  in  the  corrupt  belief 
Of  thy  blind  heart:  yet  still  thy  youthful  hands 
Were  pure  of  human  blood.  Then  manhood  gave 
Its  strength  and  ardour  to  thy  frenzied  brain  ; 
Thine  eager  gaze  scanned  the  stupendous  scene 
Whose  wonders  mocked  the  knowledge  of  thy 

pride : 
Their  everlasting  and  unchanging  laws 
Reproached  thine  ignorance.  Awhile  thou  stood'st 
Baffled  and  gloomy ;  then  thou  didst  sum  up 
The  elements  of  all  that  thou  didst  know  ; 
The  changing  seasons,  winter's  leafless  reign, 
The  budding  of  the  heaven-breathing  trees, 
The  eternal  orbs  that  beautify  the  night, 
The  sun-rise,  and  the  setting  of  the  moon, 
Earthquakes  and  wars,  and  poisons  and  disease, 
And  all  their  causes,  to  an  abstract  point, 
Converging,  thou  didst  bend,  and  called  it — God  ! 
The  self-sufficing,  the  omnipotent, 
The  merciful,  and  the  avenging  God  ! 
Who,  prototype  of  human  misrule,  sits 
High  in  heaven's  realm,  upon  a  golden  throne, 
Even  like  an  earthly  king ;  and  whose  dread  work, 
Hell  gapes  for  ever  for  the  unhappy  slaves 
Of  fate,  whom  he  created,  in  his  sport, 
To  triumph  in  their  torments  when  they  fell ! 


VI.  QUEEN  MAB.  65 

Eartk  heard  the  name;    earth   trembled,  as  the 

smoke 
Of  his  revenge  ascended  tip  to  heaven, 
Blotting  the  constellations  ;  and  the  cries 
Of  millions,  butchered  in  sweet  confidence, 
And  unsuspecting  peace,  even  when  the  bonds 
Of  safety  were  confirmed  by  wordy  oaths 
Sworn  in  his  dreadful  name,  rung  through  the 

land  ; 
Whilst  innocent  babes  writhed  on  thy   stubborn 

spear, 
And  thou  didst  laugh  to  hear  the  mother's  shriek 
Of  maniac  madness,  as  the  sacred  steel 
Felt  cold  in  he  r  torn  entrails ! 

Religion!  thou  wert  then  in  manhood's  prime  : 
But  age  crept  on :  one  God  would  not  suffice 
For  senile  puerility  ;  thou  framed'st 
A  tale  to  suit  thy  dotage,  and  to  glut 
Thy  misery-thirsting  soul,  that  the  mad  fiend 
Thy  wickedness  had  pictured,  might  afford 
A  plea  for.  sating  the  unnatural  thirst 
For  murder,  rapine,  violence,  and  crime, 
That  still  consumed  thy  being,  even  when 
Thou  heardest  the  step  of  Fate ; — that  flames 

might  light 
Thy  funeral  scene,  and  the  shrill  horrent  shrieks 
Of  parents  dying  on  the  pile  that  burned 
To  light  their  children  to  thy  paths,  the  roar 
Of  the  encircling  flames,  the  exulting  cries 
Of  thine  apostles,  loud  commingling  there, 
E3 


5Q  QUEEN  MAB.  VI. 

Might  sate  thine  hungry  ear 

Even  on  the  bed  of  death ! 
But  now  contempt  is  mocking  thy  grey  hairs  ; 
Thou  arjt  descending  to  the  darksome  grave, 
Unhonoured  and  unpitied,  but  by  those 
Whose  pride  is  passing  by  like  thine,  and  sheds, 
Like  thine,  a  glare  that  fades  before  the  sun 
Of  truth,  and  shines  but  in  the  dreadful  night 
That  long  has  lowered  above  the  ruined  world. 

Throughout  these  infinite  orbs  of  mingling  light, 

Of  which  yon  earth  is  one,  is  wide  diffused 

A  spirit  of  activity  and  life, 

That  knows  no  term,  cessation,  or  decay ; 

That  fades  not  when  the  lamp  of  earthly  life, 

Extinguished  in  the  dampness  of  the  grave, 

Awhile  there  slumbers,  more  than  when  the  babe 

In  the  dim  newness  of  its  being  feels 

The  impulses  of  sublunary  things, 

And  all  is  wonder  to  unpractised  sense : 

But,  active,  stedfast,  and  eternal,  still 

Guides  the  fierce  whirlwind,  in  the  tempest  roars, 

Cheers  in  the  day,  breathes  in  the  balmy  groves, 

strengthens  in  health,  and  poisons  in  disease; 

AncLin  the  storm  of  change,  that  ceaselessly 

Rolls  round  the  eternal  universe,  and  shakes 

Its  undecaying  battlement,  presides, 

Apportioning  with  irresistible  law 

The  place  each  spring  of  its  machine  shall  fill ; 

So  that  when  waves  on  waves  tumultuous  heap 

Confusion  to  the  clouds,  and  fiercely  driven 


VI.  QUEEN  MAB,  57 

Heaven's  lightnings  scorch  the  uprooted  ocean- 
fords, 
Whilst,  to  the  eye  of  shipwrecked  mariner, 
Lone  sitting  en  the  bare  and  shuddering  rock, 
All  seems  unlinked  contingency  and  chance: 
No  atom  of  this  turbulence  fulfils 
A  vague  and  unnecessitated  task, 
Or  acts  but  as  it  must  and  ought  to  act. 
Even  the  minutest  molecule  of  light, 
That  in  an  April  sun-beam's  fleeting  glow 
Fulfils  its  destined,  though  invisible  work, 
The  universal  Spirit  guides  ;  nor  less 
When  merciless  ambition,  or  mad  zeal, 
Has  led  two  hosts  of  dupes  to  battle-field, 
That,  blind,  they  there  may  dig  each  other's  graves 
And  call  the  sad  work — glory,  does  it  rule 
All  passions :  not  a  thought,  a  will,  an  act, 
No  working  of  the  tyrant's  moody  mind, 
Nor  one  misgiving  of  the  slaves  who  boast 
Their  servitude,  to  hide  the  shame  they  feel, 
Nor  the  events  enchaining  every  will, 
That  from  the  depths  of  unrecorded  time 
Have  drawn  all-influencing  virtue,  pass 
Unrecognized,  or  unforeseen  by  thee, 
Soul  of  the  Universe  !  eternal  spring 
Of  life  and  death,  of  happiness  and  woe, 
Of  all  that  chequers  the  phantasmal  scene 
That  floats  before  our  eyes  in  wavering  light, 
Which  gleams  but  on  the  darkness  of  our  prison, 
Whose  chains  and  massy  walls 
We  feel,  but  cannot  see. 


58  QUEEN  MAB.  '  VI. 

Spirit  of  Nature  !  all  sufficing  Power, 
Necessity  !  thou  mother  of  the  world  ! 
Unlike  the  God  of  human  error,  thou 
Requirest  no  prayers  or  praises  :  the  caprice 
Of  man's  weak  will  belongs  no  more  to  thee 
Than  to  the  changeful  passions  of  his  breast 
To  thy  unvarying  harmony :   the  slave, 
Whose  horrible  lusts   spread  misery   o'er    the 

world, 
And  the  good  man,  who  lifts,  with  virtuous  pride, 
His  being,  in  the  sight  of  happiness, 
That  springs  from  his  own  works ;    the  poison 

tree, 
Beneath  whose  shade  all  life  is  withered  up, 
And  the  fair  oak,  whose  leafy  dome  afi'ords 
A  temple  where  the  vows  of  happy  love 
Are  registered,  are  equal  in  thy  sight  : 
No  love,  no  hate  thou  cherishest ;  revenge 
And  favoritism,  and  worst  desire  of  fame 
Thou  knowest   not:     all  that   the   wide   world 

contains 
Are  but  thy  passive  instruments,  and  thou 
Regard'st  them  all  with  an  impartial  eye, 
Whose  joy  or  pain  thy  nature  can-sot  feel, 
Because  thou  hast  not  human  sense, 
Because  thou  art  not  human  mind. 

Yes!  when  the  sweeping  storm  of  time 
Has  sung  its  death-dirge  o'er  the  ruined  fanes 
And  broken  altars  of  the  Almighty  Fiend, 
Whose  name  usurps  thy  honours,  and  the  blood 


VI.  QUEEN  MAB.  50 

Through  centuries    clotted    there,    has    floated 

down 
The  tainted  flood  of  ages,  shalt  thou  live 
Unchangeable?    A  shrine  is  raised  to  thee, 

Which,  nor  the  tempest-breath  of  time, 

Nor  the  interminable  flood, 

Over  earth's  slight  pageant  rolling, 
Availeth  to  destroy — 
The  sensitive  extension  of  the  world. 

That  wondrous  and  eternal  fane, 
Where  pain  and  pleasure,  good  and  evil  join, 
To  do  the  will  of  strong  Necessity, 

And  life,  in  multitudinous  shapes, 
Still  pressing  forward  where  no  term  can  be, 

Like  hungry  and  unresisting  flame 
Curls  round  the  eternal  columns  of  its  strength.. 


60  QUEEN  MAB.  VII. 


VII. 


I  was  an  infant  when  my  mother  went 

To  see  an  Atheist  burned.    She  took  me  there : 

The  dark-robed  priests  were  met  around  the  pile, 

The  multitude  was  gazing  silently  ; 

And  as  the  culprit  passed  with  dauntless  mien, 

Tempered  disdain  in  his  unaltering  eye, 

Mixed  with  a  quiet  smile,  shone  calmly  forth : 

The  thirsty  fire  crept  round  his  manly  limbs  ; 

His  resolute  eyes  were  scorched  to  blindness 

soon  ; 
His    death-pang  rent  my  heart!    the  insensate 

mob 
Uttered  a  cry  of  triumph,  and  I  wept. 
Weep  not,  child !  cried  my  mother,  for  that  man 
Has  said,  There  is  no  God. 


There  is  no  God  ! 
Nature  confirms  the  faith  his  death-groan  sealed: 
Let  heaven  and  earth,  let  man's  revolving  race, 
His  ceaseless  generations  tell  their  tale  ; 


VII.  QUEEN  MAB.  61 

Let  every  part  depending  on  the  chain 

That  links  it  to  the  whole,  point  to  the  hand 

That  grasps  its  terra  !  let  every  seed  that  falls 

In  silent  eloquence  unfold  its  store 

Of  argument:  infinity  within, 

Infinity  without,  belie  creation  ; 

The  exterrainable  spirit  it  contains 

Is  nature's  only  God;  but  human  pride 

Is  skilful  to  invent  most  serious  names 

To  hide  its  ignorance. 

The  name  of  God 
Has  fenced  about  ail  crime  with  holiness, 
Himself  the  creature  of  his  worshippers, 
Whose    names    and    attributes,    and     passions 

change, 
Seeva,  Buddh,  Foh,  Jehovah,  God,  or  Lord, 
Even  with  the  human    dupes    who    build    his 

shrines, 
Still  serving  o'er  the  war-polluted  world 
For  desolation's  watch-word;  whether  hosts 
Stain  his  death-blushing  chariot-wheels,  as  on 
Triumphantly  they  roll,  whilst  Brahmins  raise 
A  sacred  hymn  to  mingle  with  the  groans ; 
Or  countless  partners  of  his  power  divide 
His  tyranny  to  weakness  ;  or  the  smoke 
Of  burning  towns,the  cries  of  female  helplessness, 
Unarmed  old  age,  and  youth,  and  infancy, 
Horribly  massacred,  ascend  to  heaven, 
In  honour  of  his  name  ;  or,  last  and  worst, 
Earth  groans  beneath  religion's  iron  age, 
And  priests  dare  babble  of  a  God  of  peace, 


62  QUEEN  MAB,  VII. 

Even  whilst  their  hands  are  red  with  guiltless 

blood, 
Murdering  the  while,  uprooting  every  germ 
Of  truth,  exterminating,  spoiling  all, 
Making  the  earth  a  slaughter-house  ! 

O  Spirit !  through  the  sense 
By  which  thy  inner  nature  was  apprised 

Of  outward  shews,  vague  dreams  have  rolled^ 
And  varied  reminiscences  have  waked 

Tablets  that  never  fade ; 
All  things  have  been  imprinted  there, 
The  stars,  the  sea,  the  earth,  the  sky, 
Even  the  unshapeliest  lineaments 
Of  wild  and  fleeting  visions 
Have  left  a  record  there 
To  testify  of  earth. 

These  are  my  empire,  for  to  me  is  given 
The  wonders  of  the  human  world  to  keep, 
And  fancy's  thin  creations  to  endow 
With  manner,  being,  and  reality; 
Therefore  a  wondrous  phantom,  from  the  dreams 
Of  human  error's  dense  and  purblind  faith, 
I  will  evoke,  to  meet  thy  questioning. 
Ahasuerus,  rise  ! 

A  strange  and  woe- worn  wight 
Arose  beside  the  battlement, 

And  stood  unmoving  there. 
His  inessential  figure  cast  no  shade 

Upon  the  golden  floor  ; 


VII.  QUEEN  MAB.  63 

His  port  and  mien  bore  mark  of  many  years, 
And  chronicles  of  unfold  ancientness 
Were  legible  within  his  beamless  eye  r 

Yet  his  cheek  bore  the  mark  of  youth ; 
Freshness  and  vigour  knit  his  manly  frame  ; 
The  wisdom  of  old  age  was  mingled  there 

With  youth's  primaeval  dauntlessness ; 
And  inexpressible  woe, 
Chastened  by  fearless  resignation,  gave 
An  awful  grace  to  his  all-speaking  brow. 

SPIRIT. 

Is  there  a  God? 

AHASUERUS. 

Is  there  a  God  ? — aye,  an  almighty  God, 
And  vengeful  as  almighty  ! — Once  his  voice 
Was  heard  on  earth: — earth  shuddered  at  the 

sound ; 
The  fiery- visaged  firmament  expressed 
Abhorrence,  and  the  grave  of  nature  yawned 
To  swallow  all  the  dauntless  and  the  good 
That  dared  to  hurl  defiance  at  his  throne, 
Girt  as  it  was  with  power.     None  but  slaves 
Survived — cold-blooded  slaves,  who  did  the  work 
Of  tyrannous  omnipotence :  whose  souls 
No  honest  indignation  ever  urged 
To  elevated  daring,  to  one  deed 
Which  gross  and  sensual  self  did  not  pollute. 
These  slaves  built  temples  for  the  omnipotent, 


64  QUEEN    MAB.  VII. 

Gorgeous  and  vast :  the  costly  altars  smoked 
With  human  blood,  and  hideous  pceans  rung 
Through  all  the  long-drawn  aisles.    A  murderer 

heard 
His  voice  in  Egypt,  one  whose  gifts  and  arts 
Had  raised  him  to  his  eminence  in  power, 
Accomplice  of  Omnipotence  in  crime, 
And  confidant  of  the  all-knowing  one. 
These  were  Jehovah's  words. 

From  an  eternity  of  idleness 
I,  God,  awoke  ;  in  seven  days'  toil  made  earth 
From  nothing  ;  rested,  and  created  man  : 
I  placed  him  in  a  paradise,  and  there 
Planted  the  tree  of  evil,  so  that  he 
Might  eat  and  perish,  and  my  soul  procure 
Wherewith  to  sate  its  malice,  and  to  turn, 
Even  like  a  heartless  conqueror  to  the  earth, 
All  misery  to  my  fame.    The  race  of  men 
Chosen  to  my  honour,  with  impunity 
May  sate  the  lusts  I  planted  in  their  heart. 
Here  I  command  thee  hence  to  lead  them  on, 
Until,     with   hardened    feet,    their  conquering 

troops 
Wade  on  the  promised   soil  through   woman's 

blood, 
And  make  my  name  be  dreaded  through  the  land. 
Yet  ever  burning  flame  and  ceaseless  woe 
Shall  be  the  doom  of  their  eternal  souls, 
With  every  soul  on  this  ungrateful  earth, 
Virtuous  or  vicious,  weak  or  strong — even  all 


VII.  QUEEN  MAB.  65 

Shall  perish,  to  fulfil  the  blind  revenge 
(Which  you,  to  men,  call  justice)  of  their  God. 

The  murderer's  brow 
Quivered  with  horror. 

God  omnipotent, 
Is  there  no  mercy  ?  must  our  punishment 
Be  endless  ?  will  long  ages  roll  away, 
And  see  no  term  ?  Oh  !  wherefore  hast  thou  made 
In  mockery  and  wrath  this  evil  earth? 
Mercy  becomes  the  powerful — be  just : 

0  God  !  repent  and  save. 

One  way  remains  : 

1  will  beget  a  son,  and  he  shall  bear 
The  sins  of  all  the  world  ;  he  shall  arise 
In  an  unnoticed  corner  of  the  earth, 

And  there  shall  die  upon  a  cross,  and  purge 

The  universal  crime  ;  so  that  the  few 

On  whom  my  grace  descends,    those  who  are 

marked 
As  vessels  to  the  honour  of  their  God, 
May  credit  this  strange  sacrifice,  and  save 
Their  souls  alive :  millions  shall  live  and  die, 
Who  ne'er  shall  call  upon  their  Saviour's  name, 
But,  unredeemed,  go  to  the  gaping  grave. 
Thousands  shall  deem  it  an  old  woman's  tale, 
Such  as  the  nurses  frighten  babes  withal : 
These,  in  a  gulph  of  anguish  and  of  flame, 
Shall  curse  their  reprobation  endlessly, 
Yet  tenfold  pangs  shall  force  them  to  avow, 


68  QUEEN  MAB.  VII, 

Even  on  their  beds  of  torment,  where  they  how!, 
My  honour,  and  the  justice  of  their  doom. 
What  then  avail    their    virtuous    deeds,    their 
■Of  purity,  with  radiant  genius  bright,  [thoughts 
Or  lit  with  human  reason's  earthly  ray  ? 
Many  are  called,  but  few  will  I  elect. 
Do  thou  my  bidding,  Moses  ! 

Even  the  murderer's  cheek 
Was  blanched  with  horror,  and  his  quivering  lips 
Scarce  faintly  uttered— O  almighty  one, 
I  tremble  and  obey  I 

0  Spirit!  centuries  have  set  their  seal 

On  this  heart  of  many  wounds,  and  loaded  brain, 

Since  the  incarnate  came  :  humbly  he  came, 

Veiling  his  horrible  Godhead  in  the  shape 

Of  man,  scorned  by  the  world,  his  name  unheard, 

Save  by  the  rabble  of  his  native  town, 

Even  as  a  parish  demagogue.     He  led 

The  crowd  ;  he  taught  them  justice,  truth,   and 

peace, 
In  semblance  :  but  he  lit  within  their  souls 
The   quenchless  flames  of  zeal,  and   blest  the 

sword 
He  brought  on  earth  to  satiate  with  the  blood 
Of  truth  and  freedom  his  malignant  soul. 
At  length  his  mortal  frame  was  led  to  death. 

1  stood  beside  him  :  on  the  torturing  cross 
No  pain  assailed  his  unterrestrial  sense  ; 
And  yet  he  groaned.     Indignantly,  I  summed 


VII.  QUEEN  MAB.  G7 

The  massacres  and  'miseries  which  his  name 

Had  sanctioned  in  my  country,  and  I  cried, 

Go  !  go  !  in  mockery. 

A  smile  of  godlike  malice  re-illumed 

His  fading  lineaments. — I  go,  he  cried, 

But  thou  shalt  wander  o'er  the  unquiet  earth 

Eternally. The  dampness  of  the  grave 

Bathed  my  imperishable  front.     I  fell, 

And  long  lay  tranced  upon  the  charmed  soil. 

When  I  awoke  hell  burned  within  my  brain, 

Which  staggered  on  its  seat ;  for  ail  around 

The  mouldering  relics  of  my  kindred  lay, 

Even  as  the  Almighty's  ire  arrested  them, 

And  in  their  various  attitudes  of  death 

My  murdered  children's  mute  and  eyeless  sculls 

Glared  ghastly  upon  me. 

But  my  soul, 
From  sight  and  sense  of  the  polluting  woe 
Of  tyranny,  had  long  learned  to  prefer 
Hell's  freedom  to  the  servitude  of  heaven. 
Therefore  I  rose,  and  dauntlessly  began 
My  lonely  and  unending  pilgrim  ge, 
Resolved  to  wage  unweariablo  war 
With  my  almighty  tyrant,  and  to  hurl 
Defiance  at  his  impotence  to  harm 
Beyond  the  curse  I  bore.     The  very  hand 
That  barred  my  passage  to  the  peaceful  grave 
Has  crushed  the  earth  to  misery,  and  given 
Its  empire  to  the  chosen  of  his  slaves. 
These  have  I  seen,  even  from  the  eaiiiest  dawn 
Of  weak,  unstable,  and  precarious  power  ; 
1  3 


68  QUEEN  MAB.  VII. 

Then  preaching  peace,  as  now  they  practise  war, 
So,  when  they  turned  but  from  the  massacre 
Of  unoffending  infidels,  to  quench 
Their  thirst  for  ruin  in  the  very  blood 
That  flowed  in  their  own  veins,  and  pityless  zeal 
Froze  every  human  feeling,  as  the  wife 
Sheathed  in  her  husband's  heart  the  sacred  steel, 
Even  whilst  his  hopes  were  dreaming  of  her 

love : 
And  friends  to  friends,  brothers  to  brothers  stood 
Opposed  in  bloodiest  battle-field,  and  war, 
Scarce  satiable   by    fate's    last    death-draught 

waged, 
Drunk  from  the  wine-press  of  the  Almighty's 

wrath ; 
Whilst  the  red  cross  in  mockery  of  peace, 
Pointed  to- victory  !  When  the  fray  was  done, 
No  remnant  of  the  exterminated  faith 
Survived  to  tell  its  ruin,  but  the  flesh, 
With  putrid  smoke  poisoning  the  atmosphere, 
That  rotted  on  the  half-extinguished  pile. 

Yes  !    I  have  seen  God's  worshippers  unsheathe 
The  sword  of  his  revenge,  when  grace  descended 
Confirming  all  unnatural  impulses, 
To  sane  ify  their  desolating  deeds  ; 
And  frantic  priests  waved  the  ill-omened  cross 
O'er  the  unhappy  earth  :  then  shone  the  Sun 
On  showers  of  gore  from  the  upflashing  steel 
Of  safe  assassination,  and  all  crime 
Made  stingless  by  the  spirits  of  the  Lord, 


VII.  QUEEN  MAB.  G9 

And  blood-red  rainbows  canopied  the  land. 
Spirit !  no  year  of  my  eventful  being 
Has  passed  unstained  by  crime  and  misery, 
Which  flows  from  God's  own  faith.    I've  marked 

his  slaves 
With  tongues  whose  lies  are  venomous,  beguile 
The  insensate  mob,  and  whilst  one  hand  was  red 
With  murder,  feign  to  stretch  the  other  out 
For  brotherhood  and  peace ;  and  that  they  now 
Babble  of  love  and  mercy,  whilst  their  deeds 
Are  marked  with  all  the  narrowness  and  crime 
That  freedom's  young  arm  dare  not  yet  chastise  ; 
Reason  may  claim  our  gratitude,  who  now 
Establishing  the  imperishable  throne 
Of  truth,  and  stubborn  virtue,  maketh  vain 
The  unprevailing  malice  of  my  foe, 
Whose  bootless  rage  heaps    torments    for  the 

brave, 
Adds  impotent  eternities  to  pain, 
Whilst  keenest  disappointment  racks  his  breast 
To  see  the  smiles  of  peace  around  them  play, 
To  frustrate,  or  to  sanctify  their  doom. 

Thus  have  I   stood — through  a  wild  waste  o 

years 
Struggling  with  whirlwinds  of  mad  agony, 
Yet  peaceful,  and  serene,  and  self-enshrined, 
Mocking  my  powerless  tyrant's  horrible  curse 
With  stubborn  and  unalterable  will, 
Even  as  a  giant  oak,  which  heaven's  fierce  flame 
Had  scathed  in  the  wilderness,  to  stand 


70  QUEEN  MAB„  VII. 

A  monument  of  fadeless  ruin  there  ; 

Yet  peacefully  and  movelessly  it  braves 

The  midnight  conflict  of  the  wintry  storm, 
As  in  the  sun-light's  calm  it  spreads 
Its  worn  and  withered  arms  on  high 

To  meet  the  quiet  of  a  summer's  noon. 

The  Fairy  waved  her  wand  : 
Ahasuerus  fled 
Fast  as  the  shapes  of  mingled  shade  and  mist, 
That  lurk  in  the  glens  of  a  twilight  grove, 
Flee  from  the  morning  beam  : 
The  matter  of  which  dreams  are  made 
Not  more  endowed  with  actual  life 
Than  this  phantasmal  portraiture 
Of  wandering  human  thought. 


VIII.  QUEEN  MAB.  71 


VIII. 


The  present  and  the  past  thou  hast  beheld  : 
It  was  a  desolate  sight.     Now,  Spirit,  learn 

The  secrets  of  the  fat  are. — Time  ! 
Unfold  the  brooding  pinion  of  thy  gloom, 
Render  thou  up  thy  half-devoured  babes, 
And  from  the  cradles  of  eternity, 
Where  millions  lie  lulled  to  their  portioned  sleep 
By  the  deep  murmuring  stream  of  passing  things, 
Tear  thou  that  gloomy  shroud. — Spirit,  behold 
Thy  glorious  destiny  ! 

Joy  to  the  Spirit  came. 
Through  the  v\ide  rent  in  Time's  eternal  veil, 
Hope  was  seen   beaming  through  the  mists  of 
fear  : 

Earth  was  no  longer  hell  ; 

Love,  freedom,  health,  had  given 
Their  ripeness  to  the  manhood  of  its  prime, 

And  all  its  pulses  beat 
Symphonious  to  the  planetary  spheres  ; 

Then  dulcet  music  swelled 
Concordant  with  the  life-strings  of  the  soul  ; 
It  throbbed  in  sweet  and  languid  beatings  there. 


72  QUEEN  MAB.  VIII. 

Catching  new  life  from  transitory  death — 
Like  the  vague  sighings  of  a  wind  at  even, 
That  wakes  the  wavelets  of  the  slumbering  sea, 
And  dies  on  the  creation  of  its  breath, 
And  sinks  and  rises,  fails  and  swells  by  fits  : 
Was  the  pure  stream  of  feeling 
That  sprung  from  these  sweet  notes, 
A  nd  o'er  the  Spirit's  human  sympathies 
With  mild  and  gentle  motion  calmly  flowed. 

Joy  to  the  Spirit  came — 
Such  joy  as  when  a  lover  sees 
The  chosen  of  his  soul  in  happiness, 

And  witnesses  her  peace 
Whose  woe  to  him  were  bitterer  than  death. 

Sees  her  un faded  cheek 
Glow  mantling  in  first  luxury  of  health, 

Thrills  with  her  lovely  eyes, 
Which  like  two  stars  amid  the  heaving  main 

Sparkle  through  liquid  bliss. 

Then  in  her  triumph  spoke  the  Fairy  Queen  : 
I  will  not  call  the  ghost  of  ages  gone 
To  unfold  the  frightful  secrets  of  its  lore: 

The  present  now  is  past, 
And  those  events  that  desolate  the  earth 
Have  faded  from  the  memory  of  Time, 
Who  dares  not  give  reality  to  that 
Whose  being  I  annul.    To  me  is  given 
The  wonders  of  the  human  world  to  keep, 
Space,  matter,  time,  and  mind.    Futurity 


VIII.  QUEEN  MAB.  73 

Exposes  now  its  treasure  ;  let  the  sight 
Renew  and  strengthen  all  thy  failing  hope. 
O  human  Spirit !  spur  thee  to  the  goal 
Where  virtue  fixes  universal  peace, 
And  midst  the  ebb  and  flow  of  human  things, 
Shew  somewhat  stable,  somewhat  certain  still, 
A  lighthouse  o'er  the  wild  of  dreary  waves. 

The  habitable  earth  is  full  of  bliss ; 
Those  wastes  of  frozen  billows  that  were  hurled 
By  everlasting  snow-storms  round  the  poles, 
Where  matter  dared  not  vegetate  or  live, 
But  ceaseless  frost  round  the  vast  solitude 
Bound  its  broad  zone  of  stillness,  are  unloosed ; 
And  fragrant  zephyrs  there  from  spicy  isles 
Ruffle  the  placid  ocean-deep  that  rolls 
Its  broad,  bright  surges  to  the  sloping  sand, 
Whose  roar  is  wakened  into  echoings  sweet, 
To  murmur  through  the  heaven-breathing  groves, 
And  melodize  with  man's  blest  nature  there. 

Those  deserts  of  immeasurable  sand, 
Whose  age-collected  fervours  scarce  allowed 
A  bird  to  live,  a  blade  of  grass  to  spring, 
Where  the  shrill  chirp  of  the  green  lizard's  love 
Broke  on  the  sultry  silentness  alone, 
Now  teem  with  countless  rills  and  shady  woods, 
Corn-fields,  and  pastures,  and  white  cottages; 
And  where  the  startled  wilderness  beheld 
A  savage  conqueror  stained  in  kindred  blood, 
A  tigress  sating  with  the  flesh  of  lambs, 


74  QUEEN  MAB.  VIII. 

The  unnatural  famine  of  her  toothless  cubs, 
Whilst  shouts  and  howlings  through  the  desert 

rang, 
Sloping  and  smooth  the  daisy-spangled  lawn, 
Offering  sweet  incense  to  the  sun-rise,  smiles 
To  see  a  babe  before  his  mother's  door, 

Sharing  his  morning's  meal 
With  the  green  and  golden  basilisk 

That  comes  to  lick  his  feet. 

Those  trackless  deeps,  where  many  a  weary  sail 
Has  seen  above  the  illimitable  plain, 
Morning  on  night,  and  night  on  morning  rise, 
Whilst  still  no  land  to  greet  the  wanderer  spread 
Its  shadowy  mountains  on  the  sun-bright  sea, 
Where  the  loud  roarings  of  the  tempest-waves 
So  long  have  mingled  with  the  gusty  wind 
In  melancholy  loneliness,  and  swept 
The  desert  of  those  ocean  solitudes, 
But  vocal  to  the  sea-bird's  harrowing  shriek, 
The  bellowing  monster,  and  the  rushing  storm, 
Now  to  the  sweet  and  many  mingling  sounds 
Of  kindliest  human  impulses  respond. 
Those  lonely  realms  bright  garden-isles  begem, 
With  lightsome  clouds  and  shining  seas  between, 
And  fertile  vallies  resonant  with  bliss, 
Whilst  green  woods  overcanopy  the  wave, 
Which  like  a  toil-worn  labourer  leaps  to  shore, 
To  meet  the  kisses  of  the  flow'rets  there. 

All  things  are  recreated,  and  the  flame 


VIIT.  QUEEN  MAB.  75 

Of  consentaneous  love  inspires  all  life: 
The  fertile  bosom  of  the  earth  gives  suck 
To  myriads,  who  still  grow  beneath  her  care, 
Rewarding  her  with  their  pure  perfectness: 
The  balmy  breathings  of  the  wind  inhale 
Her  virtues,  and  diffuse  them  all  abroad : 
Health  floats  amid  the  gentle  atmosphere, 
Glows  in  the  fruits,  and  mantles  on  the  stream : 
No  storm  deforms  the  beaming  brow  of  heaven, 
Nor  scatters  in  the  freshness  of  its  pride 
The  foliage  of  the  ever-verdant  trees ; 
But  fruits  are  ever  ripe,  flowers  ever  fair, 
And  autumn  proudly  bears  her  matron  grace, 
Kindling  a  flush  on  the  fair  cheek  of  spring, 
Whose  virgin  bloom  beneath  the  ruddy  fruit 
Reflects  its  tint  and  blushes  into  love. 

The  lion  now  forgets  to  thirst  for  blood: 
There  might  you  see  him  sporting  in  the  sun 
Beside  the  dreadless  kid ;  his  claws  are  sheathed, 
His  teeth  are  harmless,  custom's  force  has  made 
His  nature  as  the  nature  of  a  lamb. 
Like  passion's  fruit,    the  nightshade's  tempting 

bane 
Poisons  no  more  the  pleasure  it  bestows : 
All  bitterness  is  past ;  the  cup  of  joy 
Unmingled  mantles  to  the  goblet's  brim, 
And  courts  the  thirsty  lips  it  fled  before. 

But  chief,  ambiguous  man,  he  that  can  know; 
More  misery,  and  dream  more  joy  than  all ; 
G 


76  QUEEN  MAB.  VJII. 

Whose  keen  sensations  thrill  within  his  breast 

To  mingle  with  a  loftier  instinct  there, 

Lending  their  power  to  pleasure  and  to  pain, 

Yet  raising,  sharpening,  and  refining  each ; 

Who  stands  amid  the  ever-varying  world, 

The  burthen  or  the  glory  of  the  earth ; 

He  chief  perceives  the  change,  his  being  notes 

The  gradual  renovation,  and  defines 

Each  movement  of  its  progress  on  his  mind. 

Man,  where  the  gloom  of  the  long  polar  night 
Lowers  o'er  the  snow-clad  rocks  and  frozen  soil, 
Where  scarce  the  hardiest  herb  that  braves  the 

frost 
Basks  in  the  moonlight's  ineffectual  glow, 
Shrank  with  the  plants,  and  darkened  with  the 

night ; 
His  chilled  and  narrow  energies,  his  heart, 
Insensible  to  courage,  truth,  or  love, 
His  stunted  stature  and  imbecile  frame, 
Marked  him  for  some  abortion  of  the  earth, 
Fit  compeer  of  the  bears  that  roamed  around, 
Whose  habits  and  enjoyments  were  his  own: 
His  life  a  feverish  dream  of  stagnant  woe, 
Whose  meagre  wants,  but  scantily  fulfilled* 
Apprised  him  ever  of  the  joyless  length 
Which  hisshortbeing's  wretchedness  had  reached; 
His  death  a  pang,  which  famine,  cold,  and  toil 
Long  on  the  mind,  whilst  yet  the  vital  spark 
Clung  to  the  body  stubbornly,  had  brought : 
All  was  inflicted  here  that  earth's  revenge 


VIII.  QUEEN  MAE.  77 

Could  wreak  on  the  infringers  of  her  law; 
One  curse  alone  was  spared  the  name  of  God. 

Nor  where  the  tropics  bound  the  realms  of  day 
With  a  broad  belt  of  mingling  cloud  and  flame, 
Where  blue  mists  through  the  unmoving  atmos- 
phere 
Scattered  the  seeds  of  pestilence,  and  fed 
Unnatural  vegetation,  where  the  land 
Teemed  with  all  earthquake,  tempest,  and  dis- 
ease, 
Was  man  a  nobler  being  ;  slavery- 
Had  crushed  him  to  his  country's  blood-stained 

dust; 
Or  he  was  bartered  for  the  fame  of  power, 
Which  all  internal  impulses  destroying, 
Makes  human  will  an  article  of  trade ; 
Or  he  was  changed  with  Christians  for  their  gold, 
And  dragged  to  distant  isles,  where  to  the  sound 
Of  the  flesh-mangling  scourge,  he  does  the  work 
Of  all-polluting  luxury  and  wealth, 
Which  doubly  visits  on  the  tyrant's  heads 
The  long-protracted  fulness  of  their  woe ; 
Or  he  was  led  to  legal  butchery, 
To  turn  to  worms  beneath  that  burning  sun, 
Where  kings  first  leagued  against  the  rights  of 

men, 
And  priests  first  traded  with  the  name  of  God. 

Even  where  the  milder  zone  afforded  man 
A  seeming  shelter,  yet  contagion  there, 
G2 


iS  QUEEN  MAE.  VIII. 

Blighting  his  being  with  unnumbered  ills, 

Spread  like  a  quenchless  fire ;  nor  truth  till  late 

Availed  to  arrest  its  progress,  or  create 

That  peace  which  first  in  bloodless  victory  waved 

Her  snowy  standard  o'er  this  favoured  clime : 

There  man  was  long  the  train-bearer  of  slaves, 

The  mimic  of  surrounding  misery, 

Thejackall  of  Ambition's  lion-rage, 

The  blood-hound  of  Religion's  hungry  zeal. 

Here  now  the  human  being  stands  adorning 

This  loveliest  earth,  with  taintless  body  and 

mind ; 
Blest  from  his  birth  with  all  bland  impulses, 
Which  gently  in  his  noble  bosom  wake 
All  kindly  passions,  and  all  pure  desires. 
Him,  still  from  hope  to  hope  the  bliss  pursuing, 
"Which  from  the  exhaustless  store  of  human  weal 
Draws  on  the  virtuous  mind,  the  thoughts  that 

rise 
In  time-destroying  infiniteness,  gift 
With  self-enshrined  eternity,  that  mocks 
The  unprevailing  hoariness  of  age, 
And  man,  once  fleeting  o'er  the  transient  scene, 
Swift  as  an  unremembered  vision,  stands 
Immortal  upon  earth :  no  longer  now 
He  slays  the  lamb  that  looks  him  in  the  face, 
And  horribly  devours  his  mangled  flesh, 
Which  still  avenging  Nature's  broken  law, 
Kindled  all  putrid  humours  in  his  frame, 
All  evil  passions,  and  all  vain  belief, 
Hatred,  despair,  and  loathing  in  his  mind, 


VIII.  QUEEN  MAR  79 

The  germs  of  misery,  death,  disease,  and  crime. 
No  longer  now  the  winged  inhabitants, 
That  in  the  woods  their  sweet  lives  sing  away, 
Flee  from  the  form  of  man;  but  gather  round, 
And  prune  their  sunny  feathers  on  the  hand3 
Which  little  children  stretch  in  friendly  sport 
Towards  these  dreadless  partners  of  their  play. 
All  things  are  void  of  terror :  man  has  lost 
His  terrible  prerogative,  and  stands 
An  equal  amidst  equals :  happiness 
And  science  dawn  though  late  upon  the  earth ; 
Peace  cheers  the  mind,  health  renovates  the  frame, 
Disease  and  pleasure  cease  to  mingle  here, 
Reason  and  passion  cease  to  combat  there; 
Whilst  each,  unfettered,  o'er  the  earth  extend 
Their  all-subduing  energies,  and  wield 
The  sceptre  of  a  vast  dominion  there; 
Whilst  every  shape  and  mode  of  matter  lends 
Its  force  to  the  omnipotence  of  mind, 
Which  from  its  dark  mine  drags  the  gem  of  truth 
To  decorate  its  paradise  of  peace. 


G  3 


80  QUEEN  MAB.  IX. 


IX. 


O  happy  Earth  !  reality  of  Heaven  I 
To  which  those  restless  souls,  that  ceaselessly 
Throng  through  the  human  universe,  aspire ; 
Thou  consummation  of  all  mortal  hope  ! 
Thou  glorious  prize  of  blindly-working  will ! 
Whose  rays  diffused  throughout  all  space  and 

time, 
Verge  to  one  point  and  blend  for  ever  there : 
Of  purest  spirits  thou  pure  dwelling-place  ! 
Where  care  and  sorrow,  impotence  and  crime, 
Languor,  disease,  and  ignorance,  dare  not  come; 
O  happy  Earth,  reality  of  Heaven! 

Genius  has  seen  thee  in  her  passionate  dreams, 
And  dim  forebodings  of  thy  loveliness 
Haunting  the  human  heart,  have  there  entwined 
Those  rooted  hopes  of  some  sweet  place  of  bliss 
Where  friends  and  lovers  meet  to  part  no  more. 
Thou  art  the  end  of  all  desire  and  will, 
The  product  of  all  action:  and  the  souls 
That  by  the  paths  of  an  aspiring  change 
Have  reached  thy  haven  of  perpetual  peace, 
There  rest  from  the  eternity  of  toil 
That  framed  the  fabric  of  thy  perfectness. 


IX.  QUEEN  MAB.  81 

Even  Time,  the  conqueror,  fled  thee  in  his  fear  ; 
That  hoary  giant,  who,  in  lonely  pride, 
So  long  had  ruled  the  world,  that  nations  fell 
Beneath  his  silent  footstep.    Pyramids, 
That  for  millenniums  had  withstood  the  tide 
Of  human  things,  his  storm-breath  drove  in  sand 
Across  that  desert  where  their  stones  survived 
The  name  of  him  whose  pride  had  heaped  them 

there. 
Yon  monarch,  in  his  solitary  pomp, 
Was  but  the  mushroom  of  a  summer  day, 
That  his  light-winged  footstep  pressed  to  dust : 
Time  was  the  king  of  earth :  all  things  gave  way 
Before  him,  but  the  fixed  and  virtuous  will, 
The  sacred  sympathies  of  soul  and  sense, 
That  mocked  his  fury  and  prepared  his  fall. 
Yet  slow  and  gradual  dawned  the  morn  of  love  ; 
Long  lay  the  clouds  of  darkness  o'er  the  scene, 
Till  from  its  native  heaven  they  rolled  away: 
First,  crime,  triumphant  o'er  all  hope,  careered 
Unblushing,  undisguising,  bold,  and  strong ; 
Whilst  falsehood,  tricked  in  virtue's  attributes, 
Long  sanctified  all  deeds  of  vice  and  woe, 
Till  done  by  her  own  venomous  sting  to  death, 
She  left  the  moral  world  without  a  law, 
No  longer  fettering  passion's  fearless  wing, 
Nor  searing  reason  with  the  brand  of  God. 
Then  steadily  the  happy  ferment  worked  ; 
Reason  was  free  ;  and  wild  though  passion  went 
Through  tangled    glens   and  wood-embosomed 

meads, 


88  QUEEN  MAB.  IX. 

Gathering1  a  garland  of  the  strangest  flowers, 
Yet  like  the  bee  returning  to  her  queen. 
She  bound  the  sweetest  on  her  sister's  brow, 
Who,  meek  and  sober,  kissed  the  sportive  child, 
No  longer  trembfing  at  the  broken  rod. 

Mild  was  the  slow  necessity  of  death  ; 
The  tranquil  Spirit  failed  beneath  its  grasp, 
Without  a  groan,  almost  without  a  fear, 
Calm  as  a  voyager  to  some  distant  land, 
And  full  of  wonder,  full  of  hope  as  he. 
The  deadly  germs  of  languor  and  disease 
Died  in  the  human  frame,  and  purity 
Blest  with  all  gifts  her  earthly  worshippers. 
How  vigorous  then  the  athletic  form  of  age! 
How  clear  its  open  and  unwrinkled  brow  I 
Where  neither  avarice,  cunning,  pride,  nor  care, 
Had  stamped  the  seal  of  grey  deformity 
On  all  the  mingling  lineaments  of  time . 
How  lovely  the  intrepid  front  of  youth  I 
Which  meek-eyed  courage  decked  with  freshest 

grace; 
Courage  of  soul,  that  dreaded  not  a  name, 
And  elevated  will,  that  journeyed  on 
Through  life's  phantasmal  scene  in  fearlessness, 
With  virtue,  iove,  and  pleasure,  hand  in  hand. 

Then,  that  sweet  bondage  which  is  Freedom's 

self, 
And  rivets  with  sensation's  softest  tie 
The  kindred  sympathies  of  human  souls, 


IX.  QUEEN  MAB.  ~  $3 

Needed  no  fetters  of  tyrannic  law  : 
Those  delicate  and  timid  impulses 
In  nature's  primal  modesty  arose, 
And  with  undoubting  confidence  disclosed 
The  growing  longings  of  its  dawning  love, 
Unchecked  by  dull  and  selfish  chastity, 
That  virtue  of  the  cheaply  virtuous, 
Who  pride  themselves  in  senselessness  and  frost. 
No  longer  prostitution's  venomed  bane 
Poisoned  the  springs  of  happiness  and  life ; 
Woman  and  man,  in  confidence  and  love, 
Equal,  and  free,  and  pure,  together  trod 
The  mountain-paths  of  virtue,  which  no  more 
Were  stained  with  blood  from  many  a  pilgrim's 
feet. 

Then,  where,  through  distant  ages,  long  in  pride 
The  palace  of  the  monarch-slave  had  mocked 
Famine's  faint  groan,  and  penury's  silent  tear, 
A  heap  of  crumbling  ruins  stood,  and  threw 
Year  after  year  their  stones  upon  the  field, 
Wakening  a  lonely  echo  ;  and  the  leaves 
Of  the  old  thorn,  that  on  the  topmost  tower 
Usurped  the  royal  ensign's  grandeur,  shook 
In  the  stern  storm  that  swayed  the  topmost  tower 
And  whisper'd  strange  tales  in  the  whirlwind's  ear. 

Low  through  the  lone  cathedral's  roofless  aisles 
The  melancholy  winds  a  death-dirge  sung : 
It  were  a  sight  of  awfulness  to  see 
The  works  of  faith  and  slavery,  so  vast, 


-84  QUEEN  MAS.  IX. 

So  sumptuous,  yet  so  perishing  withal  J 
Even  as  the  corpse  that  rests  beneath  its  wall. 
A  thousand  mourners  deck  the  pomp  of  death 
To-day 5  the  breathing  marble  glows  above 
To  decorate  its  memory,  and  tongues 
Are  busy  of  its  life  :  to-morrow  worms 
In  sil-jnce  and  in  darkness  seize  their  prey. 

Within  the  massy  prison's  mouldering  courts, 
Fearless  and  free  the  ruddy  children  played, 
Weaving  gay  chaplets  for  their  innocent  brows 
With  the  green  ivy  and  the  red  wallflower, 
That  mock  the  dungeon's  unavailing  gloom; 
The  ponderous  chains,  and  gratings  of  strong  iron, 
There  rusted  amid  heaps  of  broken  stone 
That  mingled  slowly  with  their  native  earth : 
There  the  broad  beam  of  day,  which  feebly  once 
Lighted  the  «heek  of  lean  captivity 
With  a  pale  and  sickly  glare,  then  freely  shone 
On  the  pure  smiles  of  infant  playfulness : 
No  more  the  shuddering  voice  of  hoarse  despair 
Pealed  through  the  echoing  vaults,  but  soothing 

notes 
Of  ivy-fingered  winds  and  gladsome  birds 
And  merriment  were  resonant  around. 

These  ruins  soon  left  not  a  wreck  behind: 
Their  elements,  wide  scattered  o'er  the  globe, 
To  happier  shapes  were  moulded,  and  became 
Ministrantto  all  blissful  impulses  : 
Thus  human  things  were  perfected,  and  earth, 


IX.  QUEEN  MAB.  85 

Even  as  a  chHd  beneath  its  mother's  love, 
Was  strengthened  in  all  excellence,  and  grew 
Fairer  and  nobler  with  each  passing  year. 
Now  Time  his  dusky  pennons  o'er  the  scene 
Closes  in  stedfast  darkness,  and  the  past 
Fades  from  our  charmed  sight.    My  task  is  done : 
Thy  lore  is  learned.     Earth's  wonders  are  thine 

own, 
With  all  the  fear  and  all  the  hope  they  bring. 
My  spells  are  past :  the  present  now  recurs. 
Ah  me !  a  pathless  wilderness  remains 
Yet  unsubdued  by  man's  reclaiming  hand. 

Yet,  human  Spirit,  bravely  hold  thy  course, 
Let  virtue  teach  thee  firmly  to  pursue 
The  gradual  paths  of  an  aspiring  change  : 
For  birth,  and  life,  and  death,  and  that  strange 

state 
Before  the  naked  soul  has  found  its  home, 
All  tend  to  perfect  happiness,  and  urge 
The  restless  wheels  of  being  on  their  way, 
Whose  flashing  spokes,  instinct  with  infinite  life, 
Bicker  and  burn  to  gain  their  destined  goal : 
For  birth  but  wakes  the  spirit  to  the  sense 
Of  outward  shews,  whose  unexperienced  shape 
New  modes  of  passion  to  its  frame  may  lend; 
Life  is  its  state  of  action,  and  the  store 
Of  all  events  is  aggregated  there 
That  variegate  the  eternal  universe  ; 
Death  is  a  gate  of  dreariness  and  gloom, 
That  leads  to  azure  isles  and  beaming  skies 


86  QUEEN  MABf  IX. 

And  liappy  regions  of  eternal  hope. 
Therefore,  O  Spirit !  fearlessly  bear  on : 
Though  storms  may  break  the  primrose  on  its 

stalk, 
Though  frosts  may  blight  the  freshness  of  its 

bloom, 
Yet  spring's  awakening  breath  will  woo  the  earth, 
To  feed  with  kindliest  dews  its  favourite  flower, 
That  blooms  in  mossy  banks  and  darksome  glens, 
Lighting  the  greenwood  with  its  sunny  smile. 

Fear  not  then,  Spiiit,  death's  disrobing  hand, 
So  welcome  when  the  tyrant  is  awake, 
So  welcome  when  the  bigot's  helh  torch  burns ; 
'Tis  but  the  voyage  of  a  darksome  hour, 
The  transient  gulf-dream  of  a  startling  sleep. 
Death  is  no  foe  to  virtue  :  Earth  has  seen 
Love's  brightest  roses  on  the  scaffold  bloom, 
Mingling  with  freedom's  fadeless  laurels  there, 
And  presaging  the  truth  of  visioned  bliss. 
Are  there  not  hopes  -within  thee,  which  this  scene 
Of  linked  and  gradual  being  has  confirmed  ? 
Whose  stingings  bade  thy  heart  look  further  still, 
"When  to  the  moonlight  walk  by  Henry  led, 
Sweetly  and  sadly  thou  didst  talk  of  death  ? 
And  wilt  thou  rudely  tear  them  from  thy  breast, 
Listening  supinely  to  a  bigot's  creed, 
Or  tamely  crouching  to  the  tyrant's  rod, 
Whose  iron  thongs  are  red  with  human  gore? 
Never:  but  bravely  bearing  on,  thy  will 
Is  destined  an  eternal  war  to  wasre 


IX.  QUEEN  MAB.  S7 

With  tyranny  and  falsehood,  and  uproot 
The  germs  of  misery  from  the  human  heart. 
Thine  is  the  hand  whose  piety  would  soothe 
The  thorny  pillow  of  unhappy  crime, 
Whose  impotence  an  easy  pardon  gains, 
Watching  its  wanderings  as  a  friend's  disease : 
Thine  is  the  brow  whose  mildness  would  defy 
Its  fiercest  rage,  and  brave  its  sternest  will, 
When  fenced  by  power  and  master  of  the  world. 
Thou  art  sincere  and  good  ;  of  resolute  mind, 
Free  from  heart-withering  custom's  cold  controul, 
Of  passion  lofty,  pure  and  unsubdued. 
Earth's  pride  and  meanness  could  not  vanquish 

thee, 
And  therefore  art  thou  worthy  of  the  boon 
Which  thou  hast  now  received  :  virtue  shall  keep 
Thy  footsteps  in  the  path  that  thou  hast  trod, 
And  many  days  of  beaming  hope  shall  bless 
Thy  spotless  life  of  sweet  and  sacred  love. 
Go,  happy  one,  and  give  that  bosom  joy 
Whose  sleepless  spirit  waits  to  catch 
Light,  life,  and  rapture  from  thy  smile. 

The  Fairy  waves  her  wand  of  charm, 
Speechless  with  bliss  the  Spirit  mounts  the  car, 

That  rolled  beside  the  battlement, 
Bending  her  beamy  eyes  in  thankfulness. 

Again  the  enchanted  steeds  were  yoked, 

Again  the  burning  wheels  inflame 
The  steep  descent  of  heaven's  untrodden  way. 

Fast  and  far  the  chariot  flew  ; 
H 


«a  QUEEN  MAB.  IX. 

The  vast  and  fiery  globes  that  rolled 

Around  the  Fairy's  palace-gate 
Lessened  by  slow  degrees,  and  soon  appeared 
Such  tiny  twinklers  as  the  planet  orbs 
That  there  attendant  on  the  solar  power 
With  borrowed  light  pursued  their  narrower  way. 
Earth  floated  then  below : 

The  chariot  paused  a  moment  there  ; 
The  Spirit  then  descended: 
The  restless  coursers  pawed  the  ungenial  soil,  • 
Snuffed  the  gross  air,  and  then,  their  errand  done, 
Unfurled  their  pinions  to  the  winds  of  heaven. 

The  Body  and  the  Soul  united  then, 
A  gentle  start  convulsed  Iiinthe's  frame: 
Her  veiny  eyelids  quietly  unclosed ; 
Moveless  awhile  the  dark  blue  orbs  remained: 
She  looked  around  in  wonder  and  beheld 
Henry,  who  kneeled  in  silence  by  her  couch, 
Watching  her  sleep  with  looks  of  speechless  lov«j 
And  the  bright  beaming  stars 
That  through  the  casement  shone. 


NOTES. 


I.  Page  11. 
The  sun's  unclouded  orb 
Rolled  through  the  black  concave. 
Beyond  our  atmosphere  the  sun  would  appear  a  rayless 
orb  of  fire  in  the  midst  of  a  black  concave.  The  equal 
diffusion  of  its  light  on  earth  is  owing  to  the  refraction 
of  the  rays  by  the  atmosphere,  and  their  reflection  from 
other  bodies.  Light  consists  either  of  vibrations  pro- 
pagated through  a  subtle  medium,  or  of  numerous 
minute  particles  repelled  in  all  directions  from  the 
luminous  body.  Its  velocity  greatly  exceeds  that  of 
any  substance  with  which  we  are  acquainted  :  observa- 
tions on  the  eclipses  of  Jupiter's  satellites  have  demon- 
strated that  light  takes  up  no  more  than  8'  7"  in  passing 
from  the  sun  to  the  earth,  a  distance  of  95,000,000 
miles.  Some  idea  may  be  gained  of  the  immense  dis- 
tance of  the  fixed  stars,  when  it  is  computed  that  many 
years  would  elapse  before  light  could  reach  this  earth 
H2 


90  NOTES. 

from  the  nearest  of  them  ;  yet  in  one  year  light  travels 
5,482,400,000,000  miles,  which  is  a  distance  5,707,600 
times  greater  than  that  of  the  sun  from  the  earth. 

I.  Page  12. 
Whilst  round  the  chariot's  way 
Innumerable  systems  rolled. 

The  plurality  of  worlds,  the  indefinite  immensity  of 
the  universe  is  a  most  awful  subject  of  contemplation. 
He  who  rightly  feels  its  mystery  and  grandeur,  is  in  no 
danger  of  seduction  from  the  falsehoods  of  religious 
systems,  or  of  deifying  the  principle  of  the  universe. 
It  is  impossible  to  believe  that  the  Spirit  that  pervades 
this  infinite  machine,  is  angered  at  the  consequences  of 
that  necessity,  which  is  a  synonyme  of  itself.  All  that 
miserable  tale  of  the  Devil,  and  Eve,  is  irreconcileable 
with  the  knowledge  of  the  stars. 

The  nearest  of  the  fixed  stars  is  inconceivably  distant 
from  the  earth,  and  they  are  probably  proportionably 
distant  from  each  other.  By  a  calculation  of  the 
velocity  of  light,  Syrius  is  supposed  to  be  at  least 
54,224,000,000,000  miles  from  the  earth.*  That  which 
appears  only  like  a  thin  and  silvery  cloud  streaking  the 
heaven,  is  in  effect  composed  of  innumerable  clusters  of 
suns,  each  shining  with  its  own  light,  and  illuminating 
numbers  of  planets  that  revolve  around  them.    Millions 

*  See  Nicholson's  Encyclopedia,  art.  Light. 


NOTES.  91 

and  millions  of  suns  are  ranged  around \is,  all  attended 
by  innumerable  worlds,  yet  calm,  regular,  and  harmo- 
nious, all  keeping  the  paths  of  immutable  necessity. 

•IV.  Page  37. 

These  are  the  hired  bravoes  who  defend 
The  Tyrant's  throne. 

To  employ  murder  as  a  means  of  justice,  is  an  idea 
which  a  man  of  an  enlightened  mind  will  not  dwell 
upon  with  pleasure.  To  march  forth  in  rank  and  file, 
with  all  the  pomp  of  streamers  and  trumpets,  for  the 
purpose  of  shooting  at  our  fellow-men  as  a  mark  ;  to 
inflict  upon  them  all  the  variety  of  wound  and  anguish ; 
to  leave  them  weltering  in  their  blood  ;  to  wander  over 
the  field  of  desolation,  and  count  the  number  of  the 
dying  and  the  dead — are  employments  which  in  thesis 
we  may  maintain  to  be  necessary,  but  which  no  good 
man  will  contemplate  with  gratulation  and  delight.  A 
battle  we  suppose  is  won: — thus  truth  is  established ! — 
thus  the  cause  of  justice  is  confirmed !  It  surely  re- 
quires no  common  sagacity  to  discern  the  connection 
between  this  immense  heap  of  calamities,  and  the  as- 
sertion of  truth,  or  the  maintenance  of  justice. 

Kings  and  ministers  of  state,  the  real  authors  of  the 
calamity,  sit  unmolested  in  their  cabinet,  while  those 
against  whom  the  fury  of  the  storm  is  directed,  are,  for 
the  most  part,  persons  who  have  been  trepanned  into 
the  service,  or  who  are  dragged  unwillingly  from  their 
H3 


m  NOTES. 

peaceful  homes  into  the  field  of  battle.  A  soldier  is  a 
man  whose  business  it  is  to  kill  those  who  never  of- 
fended him,  and  who  are  the  innocent  martyrs  of  other 
men's  iniquities.  Whatever  may  become  of  the  abstract 
question  of  the  justifiableness  of  war,  it  seems  impossi- 
ble that  the  soldier  should  not  be  a  depraved  and  un- 
natural being. 

To  these  more  serious  and  momentous  considera- 
tions it  may  be  proper  to  add  a  recollection  of  the 
ridiculousness  of  the  military  character.  Its  first  con- 
stituent is  obedience  :  a  soldier  is,  of  all  descriptions  of 
men,  the  most  completely  a  machine;  yet  his  profession 
inevitably  teaches  hirn  something  of  dogmatism,  swag- 
gering, and  self-consequence :  he  is  like  the  puppet  of 
a  showman,  who,  at  the  very  time  he  is  made  to  strut, 
and  swell,  and  display  the  most  farcical  airs,  we  per- 
fectly know  cannot  assume  the  most  insignificant 
gesture,  advance  either  to  the  right  or  the  left,  but  as 
he  is  moved  by  his  exhibitor. — Godwin's  Enquirer, 
Essay  V. 

I  will  here  subjoin  a  little  poem  so  strongly  expres- 
sive of  my  abhorrence  of  despotism  and  falsehood, 
that  I  fear  lest  it  may  never  again  be  depictured  so 
vividly.  This  opportunity  is  perhaps  the  only  one  that 
ever  will  occur  of  rescuing  it  from  oblivion. 


NOTES. 
FALSEHOOD  AND  VICE. 

A  DIALOGUE. 

Whilst  monarchs  laughed  upon  their  thrones 
To  hear  a  famished  nation's  groans, 
And  hugged  the  wealth  wrung  from  the  woe 
That  makes  its  eyes  and  veins  o'erflow, 
Those  thrones,  high  built  upon  the  heaps 
Of  bones  where  frenzied  famine  sleeps. 
Where  slavery  wields  her  scourge  of  iron, 
Red  with  mankind's  unheeded  gore, 
And  war's  mad  fiends  the  scene  environ, 
Mingling  with  shrieks  a  drunken  roar, 
There  Vice  and  Falsehood  took  their  stand, 
High  raised  above  the  unhappy  land. 

FALSEHOOD. 

Brother !  arise  from  the  dainty  fare, 

Which  thousands  have  toiled  and  bled  to  bestow  ; 

A  finer  feast  for  thine  hungry  ear 

Is  the  news  that  I  bring  of  human  woe. 

VICE. 

And,  secret  one,  what  hast  thou  done, 
To  compare  in  thy  tumid  pride,  with  me  I 
I,  whose  career,  through  the  blasted  year, 
Has  been  tracked  by  despair  and  agony. 


9*  NOTES. 

FALSEHOOD- 

What  have  I  done ! — I  have  torn  the  robe 
From  baby  truth's  unsheltered  form, 
And  round  the  desolated  globe 
Borne  safely  the  bewildering  charm: 
My  tyrant  slaves  to  a  dungeon-floor 
Have  bound  the  fearless  innocent, 
And  streams  of  fertilizing  gore 
Flow  from  her  bosom's  hideous  rent, 
Which  this  unfailing  dagger  gave — 
I  dread  that  blood! — no  more — this  day 
Is  ours,  though  her  eternal  ray 

Must  shine  upon  our  grave. 
Yet  know,  proud  Vice,  had  I  not  given 
To  thee  the  robe  I  stole  from  heaven, 
Thy  shape  of  ugliness  and  fear 
Had  never  gained  admission  here. 

VICE. 

And  know,  that  had  I  disdained  to  toil, 
But  sate  in  my  loathsome  cave  the  while, 
And  ne'er  to  these  hateful  sons  of  heaven, 
GOLD,  MONARCHY,  and  MURDER  given 
Hadst  thou  with  all  thine  art  essayed 
One  of  thy  games  then  to  have  played, 
With  all  thine  overweening  boast, 
Falsehood  I    I  tell  thee  thou  hadst  lost ! — 


NOTES.  95 

Yet  wherefore  this  dispute  ? — we  tend, 
Fraternal,  to  one  common  end ; 
In  this  cold  grave  beneath  my  feet, 
Will  our  hopes,  our  fears,  and  our  labours  meet. 

FALSEHOOD. 

1  brought  my  daughter,  Religion,  on  earth  r 

She  smothered  Reason's  babes  in  their  birth ; 

But  dreaded  their  mother's  eye  severe — 

So  the  crocodile  slunk  off  slily  in  fear, 

And  loosed  her  bloodhounds  from  the  den — 

They  started  from  dreams  of  slaughtered  men,- 

And  by  the  light  of  her  poison  eye, 

Did  her  work  o'er  the  wide  earth  frightfully : 

The  dreadful  stench  of  her  torches  flare, 

Fed  with  human  fat  polluted  the  air : 

The  curses,  the  shrieks,  the  ceaseless  cries 

Of  the  many-mingling  miseries, 

As  on  she  trod,  ascended  high 

And  trumpeted  my  victory  ! — 

Brother,  tell  what  thou  hast  done. 

VICE. 

I  have  extinguished  the  noon-day  sun* 
In  the  carnage-smoke  of  battles  won : 
Famine,  murder,  hell,  and  power, 
Were  glutted  in  that  glorious  hour 


9$  NOTES. 

Whiclrsearchless  fate  had  stamped  for  me 

With  the  seal  of  her  security — 

For  the  bloated  wretch  on  yonder  throne 

Commanded  the  bloody  fray  to  rise  : 

Like  me  he  joyed  at  the  stifled  moan 

Wrung  from  a  nation's  miseries ; 

While  the  snakes,  whose  slime  even  him  defiled, 

In  ecstacies  of  malice  smiled : 

They  thought  'twas  theirs — but  mine  the  deed  I 

Theirs  is  the  toil,  but  mine  the  meed — 

Ten  thousand  victims  madly  bleed. 

They  dream  that  tyrants  goad  them  there 

With  poisonous  war  to  taint  the  air : 

These  tyrants,  on  their  beds  of  thorn, 

Swell  with  the  thoughts  of  murderous  fame, 

And  with  their  gains  to  lift  my  name. 

Restless  they  plan  from  night  to  morn  : 

I — I  do  all ;  without  my  aid 

Thy  daughter,  that  relentless  maid, 

Could  never  o'er  a  death-bed  urge 

The  fury  of  her  venomed  scourge. 

FALSEHOOD. 

Brother,  well : — the  world  is  ours ; 
And  whether  thou  or  I  have  wonr 
The  pestilence  expectant  lowers 
On  all  beneath  yon  blasted  sun. 


NOTES.  97 

Our  joys,  our  toils,  our  honours  meet 

In  the  milk-white  and  wormy  winding-sheet : 

A  short-lived  hope,  unceasing  care, 

Some  heartless  scraps  of  godly  prayer, 

A  moody  curse,  and  a  frenzied  sleep 

Ere  gapes  the  graves  unclosing  deep, 

A  tyrant's  dream,  a  coward's  start, 

The  ice  that  clings  to  a  priestly  heart, 

A  judge's  frown,  a  courtier's  smile, 

Make  the  great  whole  for  which  we  toil ; 

And,  brother,  whether  thou  or  I 

Have  done  the  work  of  misery, 

It  little  boots  :  the  toil  and  pain, 

Without  my  aid  were  more  than  vain  ; 

And  but  for  thee  I  ne  'er  had  sate 

The  guardian  of  heaven's  palace  gate.  {£§p 

V.  Page  41. 
Thus  do  the  generations  of  the  earth 
Go  to  the  grave,  and  issue  from  the  womb. 
One  generation  passeth  away  and  another  genera- 
tion cometh,  but  the  earth  abideth  for  ever.    The  sun 
also  ariseth,  and  the  sun  goeth  down,  and  hasteth  to 
his  place  where  he  arose.    The  wind  goeth  toward  the 
south,  and  turneth  about  unto  the  north,  it  whirleth 
about  continually,  and  the  wind  returneth  again,  ac- 
cording to  his  circuits.    All  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea, 


98  NOTES. 

yet  the  sea  is  not  full ;  unto  the  place  whence  the  rivers 
come,  thither  shall  they  return  again. 

Ecclesiastes,  chap.  i. 

V.  Page  41. 
Even  as  the  leaves 
Which  the  keen  frost-wind  of  the  waning  year 
Has  scattered  on  the  forest  soil. 
For,  as  the  leaves,  so  springs  the  race  of  man. 
Chill  blasts  shake  down  the  leaves,  and  warn'd  anew 
By  vernal  airs,  the  grove  puts  forth  again  : 
Age  after  age,  so  man  is  born  and  dies.* 

Cowper's  Homer,  book  vi^ 

V.  Page  43. 
The  mob  of  peasants,  nobles,  priests,  and  kings. 
Suave  rcari  magno  turbantibus  sequora  ventis, 
E  terra  magnum  alterius  spectare  laborem; 
Non,  quia  vexari  quemquam  est  jucunda  voluptas, 
Sed,  quibus  ipse  malis  careas,  quia  cernere  suave  est. 
.  Suave  etiam  belli  certamina  magna  tueri, 
Per  campos  instructa,  tua  sine  parte  pericli; 


*  In  this  edition,  the  four  lines  of  Greek,  quoted  by 
the  author  from  Iliad,  Z'.  1.  146,  are  omitted,  and  the 
translation  substituted,  as  being  more  acceptible  to  the 
generality  of  readers.  That  of  Cowper  is  chosen  as 
more  correct,  though  not  so  agreeable  as  Pope's. 


NOTES.  9? 

Sed  nil  dulcius  est,  bene  quam  munita  tenere, 
Edita  doctrina  sapientum,  terapla  serena ; 
Despicere  unde  queas  alios,  passim  que  videre 
Errare,  atque  viara  palanteis  quaerere  vitae  ; 
Certare  ingenio,  contendere  nobilitate  ; 
Nocteis  atque  dies  niti  praestante  labore 
Ad  summas  emergere  opes,  rerumque  potiri. 
P  miseras  hominum  menteis  !  O  pectora  caeca  I* 

Luc.  lib.  ii. 

V.  Page  44. 

And  statesmen  boast 

Of  wealth! 

There  is  no   real   wealth  but  the  labour  of  man. 

Were  the  mountains  of  gold,  and  the  vallies  of  silver, 

the  world  would  not  be  one  grain  of  corn  the  richer ; 

no  one  comfort  would  be  added  to   the   human   race. 

*  How  sweet  to  stand,  when  tempests  tear  the  main, 
On  the  firm  cliff,  and  mark  the  seaman's  toil! 
Not  that  another's  danger  soothes  the  soul, 
But  from  such  toil  how  sweet  to  feel  secure ! 
How  sweet,  at  distance  from  the  strife,  to  view 
Contending  hosts,  and  hear  the  clash  of  war ! 
But  sweeter  far  on  Wisdom's  heights  serene, 
Upheld  by  Truth,  to  fix  our  firm  abode, 
To  watch  the  giddy  crowd,  that,  deep  below, 
For  ever  wander  in  pursuit  of  bliss  ; 
To  mark  the  strife  for  honors  and  renown, 
For  wit  and  wealth,  insatiate,  ceaseless  urg'd, 
Day  after  day,  with  labour  unrestrained. 
O  wretched  mortals ! — race  perverse  and  blind ! 

Good's  Lucretius. 


100  NOTES. 

In  consequence  of  eur  consideration  for  the .  preclows 
metals^ne  man  is  enabled  to  heap  to  himself  luxuries  at 
the  expence  of  the  necessaries  of  his  neighbour ;  a 
system  admirably  fitted  to  produce  all  the  varieties  of 
disease  and  crime,  which  never  fail  to  characterise  the 
two  extremes  of  opulence  and  penury.  A  speculator 
takes  pride  to  himself  as  the  promoter  of  his  country's 
prosperity,  who  employs  a  number  of  hands  in  the 
manufacture  of  articles  avowedly  destitute  of  use,  or 
subservient  only  to  the  unhallowed  cravings  of  luxury 
and  ostentation.  The  nobleman,  who  employs  the 
peasants  of  his  neighbourhood  in  building  his  palaces, 
until  "  jam  pauca  aratro  jugera,  regies  moles  relin- 
qmintS'*  flatters  himself  that  he  has  gained  the  title  of 
a  patriot  by  yielding  to  the  impulses  of  vanity.  The 
shew  and  pomp  of  courts  adduces  the  same  apology  for 
its  continuance ;  and  many  a  fete  has  been  given,  many 
a  woman  has  eclipsed  her  beauty  by  her  dress,  to 
benefit  the  labouring*  poor,  and  to  encourage  trade. 
Who  does  not  see  that  this  is  a  remedy  which  aggra- 
vates, whilst  it  palliates  the  countless  diseases  of  so- 
ciety? The  poor  are  set  to  labour — for  what?  Not 
the  food  for  which  they  famish :  not  the  blankets  for 
want  of  which  their  babes  are  frozen  by  the  cold  of 
their  miserable  hovels :  not  those  comforts  of  civiliza* 


*  These  royal  piles  will  soon  leave  but  few  acres  for 
the  plough. 


NOTES.  10 1 

tion  without  which  civilized  man  is  far  more  miserable 
than  the  meanest  savage  ;  oppressed  as  he  is  by  all  its 
insidious  evils,  within  the  daily  and  taunting  prospect 
of  its  innumerable  benefits  assidiously  exhibited  before 
him: — no;  for  the  pride  of  power,  for  the  miserable 
isolation  of  pride,  for  the  false  pleasures  of  the  hun- 
dredth part  of  society.  No  greater  evidence  is  afforded 
of  the  wide  extended  and  radical  mistakes  of  civilized 
man  than  this  fact :  those  arts  which  are  essential  to- 
his  very  .being  are  held  in  the  greatest  contempt;  em- 
ployments are  lucrative  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  their 
usefulness:*  the  jeweller,  the  toyman,  the  actor  gains 
fame  and  wealth  by  the  exercise  of  his  useless  and 
ridiculous  art;  whilst  the  cultivator  of  the  earth,  he 
without  whom  society  must  cease  to  subsist,  struggles 
through  contempt  and  penury,  and  perishes  by  that 
famine  which,  but  for  his  unceasing  exertions,  would 
annihilate  the  rest  of  mankind. 

I  will  not  insult  common  sense  by  insisting  on  the 
doctrine  of  the  natural  equality  of  man.  The  question 
is  not  concerning  its.  desirableness,  but  its  practicabi- 
lity :  so  far  as  it  is  practicable,  it  is  desirable.  That 
state  of  human  society  which  approaches  nearer  to  an 
equal  partition  of  its  benefits  and  evils  should,  cceteris 

*  See  Rousseau,  "  Del'Inegalite  p&rmi  lesHommes,'* 
note  7, 

I  2 


102  NOTES. 

paribus*  be  preferred :  but  so  long  as  we  conceive 
that  a  wantorl  expenditure  of  human  labour,  not  fof 
the  necessities,  not  even  for  the  luxuries  of  the  mass  of 
society,  but  for  the  egotism  and  ostentation  of  a  few, 
6f  its  members,  is  defensible  on  the  ground  of  public 
justice,  so  long  we  neglect  to  approximate  to  the  re- 
demption of  the  human  race. 

Labour  is  required  for  physical,  and  leisure  for  mo- 
ral improvement :  from  the  former  of  these  advantages 
the  rich,  and  from  the  latter  the  poor,  by  the  inevitable 
condition  of  their  respective  situations,  are  precluded. 
A  state  which  should  combine  the  advantages  of  both,- 
would  be  subjected  to  the  evils  Of  neither.  He  that  is 
deficient  in  firm  health,  or  vigorous  .  intellect  is  but  half 
a  man :  hence  it  follows,  that,  to  subject  the  labouring 
cUsses  to  unnecessary  labour,  is  wantonly  depriving 
them  of  any  opportunities  of  intellectual  improvement ; 
and  that  the  rich  are  heaping  up  for  their  own  mischief^ 
the  disease,  lassitude,  and  ennui,  by  which  their  exist- 
ence is  rendered  an  intolerable  burthen. 

English  reformers  exclaim  against  sinecures— but 
the  true  pension-list  is  the  rent-roll  of  the  landed  pro- 
prietors :  wealth  is  a  power  usurped  by  the  few,  to 
compel  the  many  to  labour  for  their  benefit.     The  laws 

*  Making  allowances  on  both  sides,. 


NOTES.  103 

which  support  this  system  derive  their  force  from  the 
ignorance  and  credulity  of  its  victims :  they  are  the 
result  of  a  conspiracy  of  the  few  against  the  many, 
who  are  themselves  obliged  to  purchase  this  pre-emi- 
nence by  the  loss  of  all  real  comfort.  ##* 

The  commodities  that  substantially  contribute  to  the 
subsistence  of  the  human  species  form  a  very  short 
catalogue :  they  demand  from  us  but  a  slender  portion 
of  industry.  If  these  only  were  produced,  and  suffi" 
ciently  produced,  the  species  of  man  would  be  conti- 
nued. If  the  labour  necessarily  required  to  produce 
them  were  equitably  divided  among  the  poor,  and, 
still  more,  if  it  were  equitably  divided  among  all, 
each  man's  share  of  labour  would  be  light,  and  his 
portion  of  leisure  would  be  ample.  There  was  a  time 
when  this  leisure  would  have  been  of  small  compara- 
tive value :  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  time  will  come? 
when  it  will  be  applied  to  the  most  important  pur- 
poses. Those  hours  which  are  not  required  for  the 
production  of  the  necessaries  of  life  may  be  devoted 
to  the  cultivation  of  the  understanding,  the  enlarging 
our  stock  of  knowledge,  the  refining  our  taste,  and 
thus  opening  to  us  new  and  more  exquisite  sources  of 

enjoyment. 

*  ******* 

It  was  perhaps  necessary  that  a  period  of  monopoly 
13 


im  NOTES. 

and  oppression  should  subsist,  before. a  period;  of  cul- 
tivated equality  could  subsist.  Savages  perhaps  would 
never  have  been  excited  to  the  discovery  of  truth  and 
the  invention  of  art,  but  by  the  narrow  motives  which? 
such  a  period  affords.  But,  surely,  after  the  savage 
state  has  ceased,  and  men  have  set  out  in  the  glorious 
career  of  discovery  and  invention,  monopoly  and  op- 
pression cannot  be  necessary  to  prevent  them  from 
returning  to  a  state  of  barbarism. — Godwin's  En- 
quirer, Essay  II.  See  also  Pol.  Jus.  Book  VIII, . 
chap.  II, 

It  is  a  calculation  of  thi3  admirable  author,  that  all : 
the  conveniences  of  civilized  life  might  be  produced, 
if  society  would  divide  the  labour  equally  among  its 
members,  by  each  individual  being  employed  in  labour 
two  hours  during  the  day. 

V.  Page  4ft. 
Or  religion 
Drives  his  wife  raving  mad. 
I  am  acquainted  with  a  lady  of  considerable  accom- 
plishments,   and   the  mother    of  a  numerous  family, 
whom  the  Christian  religion  has  goaded  to  incurable 
insanity.    A  parallel  case  is,  I  believe,  within  the  ex- 
perience of  every  physician. 


NOTES.  K)5 

Nam  jam  saepe  homines  patriam,  carosque  parentes 
Prodiderunt,  vitare  Acherusia  templa  petentes.* 

Lucretius. 

V.  Page  47. 
Even  love  is  sold. 

Not  even  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes  is  exempt 
from  the  despotism  of  positive  institution.  Law  pre- 
tends even  to  govern  the  indisciplinable  wanderings  of 
passion,  to  put  fetters  on  the  clearest  deductions  of 
reason,  and  by  appeals  to  the  will,  to  subdue  the  in- 
voluntary affections  of  our  nature.  Love  is  inevitably 
consequent  upon  the  perception  of  loveliness.  Love 
withers  under  constraint  r  its  very  essence  is  liberty  : 
it  is  compatible  neither  with  obedience,  jealousy,  nor 
fear  :  it  is  there  most  pure,  perfect,  and  unlimited, 
where  its  votaries  live  in  confidence,  equality,,  and  un- 
reserve. 

How  long  then  ought  the  sexual  connection  to  last  1 
what  law  ought  to  specify  the  extent  of  the  grievances 
which  should  limit  its  duration?  A  husband  and  wife 
ought  to  continue  so  long  united  as  they  love  each 
other:  any  law  which  should  bind  them  to  cohabita- 
tion for  one  moment  after  the  decay  of  their  affection, 

*  For  now,  men,  desiring  to  avoid  the  infernal  re- 
gions, will  frequently  betray  their  country  and  dearest 
parents. 


106  NOTES. 

would  be  a  most  intolerable  tyranny,  and  the  most 
unworthy  of  toleration.  How  odious  an  usurpation 
of  the  right  of  private  judgment  should  that  law  be 
considered,  which  should  make  the  ties  of  friendship 
indissoluble,  in  spite  of  the  caprices,  the  inconstancy, 
the  fallibility,  and  capacity  for  improvement  of  the 
human  mind.  And  by  so  much  would  the  fetters  of 
love  be  heavier  and  more  unendurable  than  those  of 
friendship,  as  love  is  more  vehement  and  capricious, 
more  dependent  on  those  delicate  peculiarities  of  ima- 
gination, and  less  capable  of  reduction  to  the  ostensi- 
ble merits  of  the  object. 

The  state  of  society  in  which  we  exist  is  a  mixture 
of  feudal  savageness  and  imperfect  civilization.  The 
narrow  and  unenlightened  morality  of  the  Christian 
religion  is  an  aggravation  of  these  evils.  It  is  not  even 
until  lately  that  mankind  have  admitted  that  happiness 
is  the  sole  end  of  the  science  of  ethics,  as  of  all  other 
sciences  ;  and  that  the  fanatical  idea  of  mortifying  the 
flesh  for  the  love  of  God  has  been  discarded.  I  have 
heard,  indeed,  an  ignorant  collegian  adduce,  in  favour 
of  Christianity,  its  hostility  to  every  worldly  feeling  !* 

*  The  first  Christian  emperor  made  a  law  by  which 
seduction  was  punished  with  death ;  if  the  female 
pleaded  her  own  .consent,  she  also  was  punished  with 
death  ;  if  the  parents  endeavoured  to  screen  the  crimi- 
nals, they  were  banished,  and  their  estates  were  confis- 
cated;  the  slaves  who  might  be  accessary  were  burne»I 


NOTES,  107 

But  if  happiness  be  the  object  of  morality,  of  all  hu- 
man unions  and  disunion's ;  if  the  worthiness  of  every 
action  is  to  be  estimated  by  the  quantity  of  pleasurable 
sensation  it  is  calculated  to  produce,  then  the  connec- 
tion of  the  sexes  is  so  long  sacred  as  it  contributes  to 
the  comfort  of  the  parties,  and  is  naturally  dissolved 
when  its  evils  are  greater  than  its  benefits.  There  is 
nothing  immoral  in  this  separation.  Constancy  has 
nothing  virtuous  in  itself,  independently  of  the  pleasure 
it  confers,  and  partakes  of  the  temporizing  spirit  of 
vice,  in  proportion  as  it  endures  tamely  moral  defects 
of  magnitude  in  the  object  of  its  indiscreet  choice. 
Love  is  free  :  to  promise  for  ever  to  love  the  same  woman, 
is  not  less  absurd  than  to  promise  to  believe  the  same 
creed;  such  a  vow;  in  both  cases,  excludes  us  from  all 
enquiry.  The  language  of  the  votarist  is  this :  The 
woman  I  now  love  may  be  infinitely  inferior  to  many 
others ;  the  creed  I  now  profess  may  be  a  mass  of 
errors  and  absurdities ;  but  I  exclude  myself  from  all 
future  information  as  to  the  amiability  of  the  one,  and 
the  truth  of  the  other,  resolving  blindly,  and  in  spite  of 
conviction,  to  adhere  to  them. — Is  this  the  language  of 


alive,  or  forced  to  swallow  melted  lead.  The  very 
offspring  of  an  illegal  love  were  involved  in  the  conse- 
quences of  the  sentence. — Gibbon's  Decline  and  Fall. 
&c.  vol.  ii.  page  210.  See  also,  the  hatred  of  the  pri- 
mitive Christians  to  love,  and  even  marriage,  page  269. 


10$  NOTES. 

delicacy  and  reason  I    Is  the  love  of  such  a  frigid  heart 
of  more  worth  than  its  belief  ? 

The  present  system  of  constraint  does  no  more,  in  the 
majority  of  instances,  than  make  hypocrites  or  open, 
enemies..  Persons  of  delicacy  and  virtue,  unhappily 
united  to  one  whom  they  find  it  impossible  to  love, 
spend  the  loveliest  season  of  their  life  in  unproductive 
efforts  to  appear  otherwise  than  they  are,  for  the  sake 
of  the  feelings  of  their  partner  or  the  welfare  of  their 
mutual  offspring :  those  of  less  generosity  and  refine- 
ment openly  avow  their  disappointment,  and  linger  out 
the  remnant  of  that  union,  which  only  death  can  dis- 
solve, in  a  state  of  incurable  bickering  and  hostility. 
The  early  education  of  their  children  takes  its  colour 
from  the  squabbles  of  the  parents  ;  they  are  nursed  ht 
a,  systematic  school  of  ill-humour,  violence,  and  false- 
hood. Had  they  been  suffered  to  part  at  the  moment 
when  indifference  rendered  their  union  irksome,  they 
would  have  been  spared  many  years  of  misery :  they 
would  have  connected  themselves  more  suitably,  and 
would  have  found  that  happiness  in  the  society  of  mor# 
congenial  partners  which  is  for  ever  denied  them  by  the* 
despotism  of  marriage.  They  would  have  been  sepa- 
rately useful  and  happy  members  of  society,  who, 
whilst  united,  were  miserable,  and  rendered  misanthro- 
phical  by  misery.  The  conviction  that  wedlock  is  in^ 
dissoluble  holds  out  the  strongest  of  alltemptations  to  the 


NOTES.  10d 

perverse :  they  indulge  without  restraint  in  acrimony, 
aftd  all  the  little  tyrannies  of  domestic  life,  when  they 
know  that  their  victim  is  without  appeal.  If  this  con- 
nection were  put  on  a  rational  basis,  each  would  be 
assured  that  habitual  ill  temper  would  terminate  in 
separation,  and  would  check  this  vicious  and  dangerous 
propensity. 

Prostitution  is  the  legitimate  offspring  of  marriage 
and  its  accompanying  errors.  Women,  for  no  other 
crime  than  having  followed  the  dictates  of  a  natural 
appetite,  are  driven  with  fury  from  the  comforts  and 
sympathies  of  society.  It  is  less  venial  than  murder ; 
find  the  punishment  which  is  inflicted  on  her  who  de- 
stroys her  child  to  escape  reproach,  is  lighter  than  the 
life  of  agony  and  disease  to  which  the  prostitute  it 
irrecoverably  doomed.  Has  a  woman  obeyed  the  im- 
pulse of  unerring  nature ; — society  declares  war  against 
her,  pityless  and  eternal  war :  she  must  be  the  tame 
slave,  she  must  make  no  reprisals ;  theirs  is  the  right 
of  persecution,  hers  the  duty  of  endurance.  She  lives 
a  life  of  infamy;  the  loud  and  bitter  laugh  of  scorn 
scares  her  from  all  return.  She  dies  of  long  and  lin- 
gering disease  :  yet  she  is  in  fault,  she  is  the  criminal, 
she  the  froward  and  untameable  child^nnd  society 
forsooth,  the  pure  and  virtuous  matron,  who  casts  her 
as  an  abortion  from  her  undefiled  bosom !  Society 
avenges  herself  on  the  criminals  of  her  own  creation; 
she  is  employed  in  anathematizing  the  vice  to-daj& 


HO  NOTES. 

which  yesterday  she  was  the  most  zealous  to  teach. 
Thus  is  formed  one-tenth  of  the  population  of  London: 
meanwhile  the  evil  is  twofold.  Young  men,  excluded 
by  the  fanatical  idea  of  chastity  from  the  society  of 
modest  and  accomplished  women,  associate  with  these 
vicious  and  miserable  beings,  destroying  thereby  all 
those  exquisite  and  delicate  sensibilities  whose  exist- 
ence, cold-hearted  worldlings  have  denied ;  annihilat- 
ing all  genuine  passion,  and  debasing  that  to  a  selfish 
feeling  which  is  the  excess  of  generosity  and  devoted- 
ness.  Their  body  and  mind  alike  crumble  into  a 
hideous  wreck  of  humanity  ;  idiotcy  and  disease  be- 
come perpetuated  in  their  miserable  offspring,  and 
distant  generations  suffer  for  the  bigotted  morality  of 
their  forefathers.  Chastity  is  a  monkish  and  evangeli- 
cal superstition,  a  greater  foe  to  natural  temperance 
even  than  unintellectual  sensuality ;  it  strikes  at  the 
root  of  all  domestic  happiness,  and  consigns  more  than 
half  of  the  human  race  to  misery,  that  some  few  may 
monopolize  according  to  law.  A  system  could  not 
well  have  been  devised  more  studiously  hostile  tp 
human  happiness  than  Marriage. 

I  conceive  that,  from  the  abolition  of  marriage,  the 
fit  and  natural  arrangement  of  sexual  connection  would 
result.  I  by  no  means  assert  that  the  intercourse 
would  be  promiscuous  :  on  the  contrary ;.  it  appears' 
from  the  relation  of  parent  to  child,  that  this  union  is 
generally   of  long   duration,    and  marked  above  all 


NOTES.  Ill 

others  with  generosity  and  self-devotion.  But  this  is 
a  subject  which  it  is,  perhaps,  premature  to  discuss. 
That  which  will  result  from  the  abolition  of  marriage, 
will  be  natural  and  right,  because  choice  and  change 
will  be  exempted  from  restraint. 

In  fact,  religion  and  morality,  as  they  now  stand,  com- 
pose a  practical  code  of  misery  and  servitude  :  the  ge- 
nius of  human  happiness  must  tear  every  leaf  from  the 
accursed  book  of  God,  ere  man  can  read  the  inscription 
on  his  heart.  How  would  morality,  dressed  up  in  stiif 
stays  and  finery,  start  from  her  own  disgusting  image, 
should  she  look  in  the  mirror  of  nature  !  (J^* 

VI.  Page  52. 
To  the  red  and  baleful  sun 
That  faintly  twinkles  there. 
The  north  polar  star,  to  which  the  axis  of  the  earth, 
in  its  present  state  of  obliquity,  points.     It  is  exceed- 
ingly probable,   from  many   considerations,  that  this 
obliquity  will   gradually  diminish,    until  the   equator 
coincides  with  the  ecliptic  :  the  nights  and  days  will 
then  become  equal  on  the  earth  throughout  the  year, 
and  probably  the  seasons  also.    There  is  no  great  ex- 
travagance in  presuming  that  the  progress  of  the  per- 
pendicularity of  the  poles  may  be  as  rapid  as  the  pro- 
gress of  intellect ;   or  that  there  should  be   a  perfect 
identity  between  the  moral  and   physical  improvement 
of  the  human  species.    It  is  certain  that  wisdom  is  not 
K 


1-13  NOTES. 

eompatible  with  disease,  and  that,  in  the  present  state 
of  the  climates  of  the  earth,  health,  in  the  true  and 
comprehensive  sense  of  the  word,  is  out  of  the  reach 
of  civilized  man.  Astronomy  teaches  us  that  the  earth 
is  now  in  its  progress,  and  that  the  poles  are  every  year 
becoming  more  and  more  perpendicular  to  the  ecliptic. 
The  strong  evidence  afforded  by  the  history  of  mytho- 
logy, and  geological  researches,  that  some  event  of  this 
nature  has  taken  place  already,  affords  a  strong  pre- 
sumption that  this  progress  is  not  merely  an  oscillation, 
as  has  been  surmised  by  some  late  astronomers.*  Bones 
of  animals,  peculiar  to  the  torrid  zone,  have  been  found 
in  the  north  of  Siberia,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  river 
Ohio.  Plants  have  been  found  in  the  fossil  state  in  the 
interior  of  Germany,  which  demand  the  present  climate 
of  Hindostan  for  their  production.t  The  researches  of 
M.  Bailly  +  establish  the  existence  of  a  people  who  in- 
habit a  tract  of  land  in  Tartary,  49».  north  latitude,  of 
greater  antiquity  than  either  the  Indians,  the  Chinese, 
or  the  Chaldeans,  from  whom  these  nations  derived  their 
sciences  and  theology.  We  find,  from  the  testimony  of 
ancient  writers,  that  Britain,  Germany,   and  France, 


Laplace,  Systeme  du  Monde. 

Cabanis,  Rapports  du  Physii 
)ffime,  vol  ii.  p.  406. 

X  Lettres  sur  les  Sciences,  a  Voltaire.   Bailly. 


+  Cabanis,  Rapports  du  Physique  et  du  Moral  de 
1'Homme,  vol  ii.  p.  406. 


NOTES.  113 

were  much  colder  than  at  present,  and  that  their  great  • 
rivers  were  annually  frozen  over.     Astronomy  teaches 
us  also,  that  since  this  period,  the  obliquity  of  the  earth's 
position  has  been  considerably  diminished.  (£§* 

VI.  Page  57. 
No  atom  of  this  turbulence  fulfils 
A  vague  and  unnecessitated  task, 
Or  acts  but  as  it  must  and  ought  to  act. 
Two  examples  will  serve  to  render  the  position  here 
asserted,  more  intelligible  to  us :  we  will  borrow  the 
one  from  physical,  the  other  from  moral  effects.    In  a 
whirlwind  of  dust,  raised  by  a  boisterous  wind,  how- 
ever disordered  it  may  appear  to  our  eyes — in  the  most 
frightful  tempests,  excited  by  conflicting  winds,  which 
convulse  the  waves,  there  is  not  a  single  atom  of  dust, 
or  of  water,  that  is  placed  by  chance,  which  has  not  its 
sufficient  cause  for  occupying  the  space  where  it  is 
found,  and  which  does  not  act  precisely  in  the  manner 
it  ought  to  act.    A  geometrician,  who  knew  perfectly 
the  different  powers  which  act  in  both  these  cases,  and 
the  properties  of  the  atoms  which  are  moved,  will  de- 
monstrate, that  after  the  causes  given,  each  atom  acts 
exactly  as  it  should  act,  and  could  not  act  otherwise 
than  it  dots. 

In  the  terrible  convulsions  which  sometimes  agitate 
political  societies,  and  which  often  bring  about  the  sub- 
version of  an  empire,  there  is  not  a  single  action,  a  sin- 
K  2 


114  NOT.ES. 

gle  word,  a  single  thought,  a  single  volition,  or  a  single 
passion  in  the  agents  which  concur  in  the  revolution, 
either  as  destroyers  or  as  victims,  which  are  not  ne- 
cessary, and  which  act  not  as  they  must  act,  and  which 
do  not  infallibly  produce  the  effects  which  they  ought 
to  produce  according  to  the  situation  which  they  occu- 
pied in  this  moral  whirlwind.  This  would  appear  evi- 
dent to  an  intelligence  capable  of  discerning  and  ap- 
preciating all  the  actions  and  re-actions  of  the  minds 
and  of  the  bodies  of  those  who  contribute  to  this  revo- 
lution.* 

Systeme  dc  la  Nature.  Premiere  Partie,  chap.  4. 

VI.  Page  58. 
Necessity !  thou  mother  of  the  world  ! 
He  who  asserts  the  doctrine  of  Necessity,  means  that, 
contemplating  the  events  which  compose  the  moral  and 
material  universe,  he  beholds  only  an  immense  and  un- 
interrupted chain  of  causes  and  effects,  no  one  of  which 
could  occupy  any  other  place  than  it  does  occupy,  or 
act  in  any  other  place  than  it  does  act.  The  idea  of 
necessity  is  obtained  by  our  experience  of  the  connec- 
tion between  objects,  the  uniformity  of  the  operations 
of  nature,  the  constant  conjunction  of  similar  events, 
and  the  consequent  inference  of  one  from  the  other. — 

*  Here  also,  a  translation  is  substituted  for  the  origi- 
nal, quoted  by  the  author. 


NOTES.  115 

Mankind  are  therefore  agreed  in  the  admission  of  ne- 
cessity, if  they  admit  that  these  two  circumstances  take 
place  in  voluntary  action.  Motive  is,  to  voluntary  ac- 
tion in  the  human  mind,  what  cause  is  to  effect  in  the 
material  universe.  The  word  liberty,  as  applied  to 
mind,  is  analogous  to  the  word  chance,  as  applied  to 
matter ;  they  spring  from  an  ignorance  of  the  certainty 
of  the  conjunction  of  antecedents  and  consequents. 

Every  human  being  is  irresistibly  impelled  to  act 
precisely  as  he  does  act:  in  the  eternity  which  preceded 
his  birth,  a  chain  of  causes  was  generated,  which,  ope- 
rating under  the  name  of  motives,  makes  it  impossible 
that  any  thought  of  his  mind,  or  any  action  of  his  life, 
should  be  otherwise  than  it  is.  Were  the  doctrine  of 
necessity  false,  the  human  mind  would  no  longer  be 
a  legitimate  object  of  science;  from  like  causes  it 
would  be  in  vain  that  we  should  expect  like  effects; 
the  strongest  motive  would  no  longer  be  paramount 
over  the  conduct;  all  knowledge  would  be  vague  and 
undeterminate ;  we  could  not  predict  with  any  cer- 
tainty, that  we  might  not  meet  as  an  enemy  to-morrow, 
him  with  whom  we  have  parted  in  friendship  to-night ; 
the  most  probable  inducements,  and  the  clearest  rea- 
sonings, would  lose  the  invariable  influence  they  pos- 
sess. The  contrary  of  this  is  demonstrably  the  fact. — 
Similar  circumstances  produce  the  same  unvariable  ef- 
fects. The  precise  character  and  motives  of  any  man 
on  any  occasion  being  given,  the  moral  philosopher 
K3 


116  NOTES, 

could  predict  his  actions  "with  as  much  certainty  as  the 
natural  philosopher  could  predict  the  effects  of  the  mix- . 
ture  of  any  particular  chemical  substances.  Why  is 
the  aged  husbandman  more  experienced  than  the  young 
beginner  ?  Because  there  is  an  uniform,  undeniable  ne- 
cessity in  the  operations  of  the  material  universe. — 
Why  is  the  old  statesman  more  skilful  than  the  raw  po- 
litician? Because,  relying  on  the  necessary  conjunc- 
tion of  motive  and  action,  he  proceeds  to  produce 
moral  effects,  by  the  application  of  those  moral 
causes  which  experience  has,  shewn  to  be  effectual. 
Some  actions  may  be  found  to  which  we  can  attach 
no  motives,  but  these  are  the  effects  of  causes  with 
which  we  are  unacquainted.  Hence  the  relation  which 
motive  bears  to  voluntary  action  is  that  of  cause  to  ef- 
fect ;  nor,  placed  in  this  point  of  view,  is  it,  or  ever 
has  it  been  the  subject  of  popular  or  philosophical  dis- 
pute. None  but  the  few  fanatics  who  are  engaged  in 
the  Herculean  task  of  reconciling  the  justice  of  theii? 
God  with  the  misery  of  man,  will  longer  outrage  com- 
mon sense  by  the  supposition  of  an  event  without  a 
cause,  a  voluntary  action  without  a  motive.  History, 
politics,  morals,  criticism,  all  grounds  of  reasoning,  all 
principles  of  seience,  alike  assume  the  truth  of  the 
doctrine  of  necessity.  No  farmer  carrying  his  corn 
to  market  doubts  the  sale  of  it  at  the  market  price. 
The  master  of  a  manufactory  no  more  doubts  that  he 
can  purchase  the  human    labour    necessary,  for    his 


NOTES.  117 

purposes,  than  that  his  machinery  will  act  as  it  has 
been  accustomed  to  act. 

But,  whilst  none  have  scrupled  to  admit  necessity  as 
influencing  matter,  many  have  disputed  its  dominion 
over  mind.  Independently  of  its  militating  with  the 
received  ideas  of  the  justice  of  God,  it  is  by  no  means 
obvious  to  a  superficial  enquiry.  When  the  mind  ob- 
serves its  own  operations,  it  feels  no  connection  of  mo- 
tive and  action:  but  as  we  know  "nothing  more  of 
causation  than  the  constant  conjunction  of  objects,  and 
the  consequent  inference  of  one  from  the  other,  as  we 
find  that  these  two  circumstances  are  universally  al- 
lowed to  have  place  in  voluntary  action,  we  may  be 
easily  led  to  own  that  they  are  subjected  to  the  neces- 
sity common  to  all  causes,"  The  actions  of  the  will 
have  a  regular  conjunction  with  circumstances  and  cha- 
racters; motive  is,  to  voluntary  action,  what  cause  is 
to  effect.  But  the  only  idea  we  can  form  of  causation 
is  a  constant  conjunction  of  similar  objects,  and  the  con- 
sequent inference  of  one  from  the  other:  wherever  this 
is  the  case,  necessity  is  clearly  established. 

The  idea  of  liberty,  applied  metaphorically  to  the 
will,  has  sprung  from  a  misconception  of  the  meaning 
of  the  word  power.  What  is  power  ? — id  quod  potest, 
that  which  can  produce  any  given  effect.  To  deny 
power,  is  to  say  that  nothing  can  or  has  the  power  to 
be  or  act.  In  the  only  true  sense  of  the  word  power, 
it  applies  with  equal  force  to  the  loadstone  as  to  the 


JIS  NOTES. 

human  will.  Do  you  think  these  motives,  which  I 
shall  present,  are  powerful  enough  to  rouse  him?  is  a 
question  just  as  common  as,  Do  you  think  this  lever 
has  the  power  of  raising  this  weight?  The  advocates 
of  free-will  assert  that  the  will  has  the  power  of  re- 
fusing to  be  determined  by  the  strongest  motive :  but  the 
strongest  motive  is  that  which,  overcoming  all  others, 
ultimately  prevails  ;  this  assertion  therefore  amounts 
to  a  denial  of  the  will  being  ultimately  determined  by 
that  motive  which  does  determine  it,  which  is  absurd. 
But  it  is  equally  certain  that  a  man  cannot  resist  the 
strongest  motive,  as  that  he  cannot  overcome  a  physical 
impossibility. 

The  doctrine  of  necessity  tends  to  introduce  a  great 
change  into  the  established  notions  of  morality,  and 
utterly  to  destroy  religion.  Reward  and  punishment 
must  be  considered,  by  the  Necessarian,  merely  as 
motives  which  he  would  employ  in  order  to  procure 
the  adoption  or  abandonment  of  any  given  line  of  con- 
duct. Desert,  in  the  present  sense  of  the  word,  would 
no  longer  have  any  meaning  ;  and  he,  who  should  in- 
flict pain  upon  another  for  no  better  reason  than  that 
he  deserved  it,  would  only  gratify  his  revenge  under 
pretence  of  satisfying  justice.  It  is  not  enough,  says 
the  advocate  of  free-will,  that  a  criminal  should  be 
prevented  from  a  repetition  of  his  crime:  he  should 
feel  pain,  and  his  torments,  when  justly  inflicted,  ought 
precisely  to  be  proportioned  to  his  fault.    But  utility 


NOTES.  119 

is  morality ;  that  which  is  incapable  of  producing  hap- 
piness is  useless  ;  and  though  the  crime  of  Damiens 
must  be  condemned,  yet  the  frightful  torments  which 
revenge,  under  the  name  of  justice,  inflicted  on  this 
unhappy  man,  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  augmented, 
even  at  the  long  run,  the  stock  of  pleasurable  sensation 
in  the  world.  At  the  same  time  the  doctrine  of  neces- 
sity does  not  in  the  least  diminish  our  disapprobation 
of  vice.  The  conviction  which  all  feel,  that  a  viper  is 
a  poisonous  animal,  and  that  a  tyger  is  constrained,  by 
the  inevitable  condition  of  his  existence,  to  devour 
men,  does  not  induce  us  to  avoid  them  less  sedulously, 
or,  even  more,  to  hesitate  in  destroying  them:  but  he 
would  surely  be  of  a  hard  heart,  who,  meeting  with  a 
serpent  on  a  desart  island,  or  in  a  situation  where  it 
was  incapable  of  injury,  should  wantonly  deprive  it  of 
existence.  A  Necessarian  is  inconsequent  to  his  own 
principles,  if  he  indulges  in  hatred  or  contempt ;  the 
compassion  which  he  feels  for  the  criminal  is  unmixed 
with  a  desire  of  injuring  him:  he  looks  with  an  eleva- 
ted and  dreadless  composure  upon  the  links  of  the  uni- 
versal chain  as  they  pass  before  his  eyes  ;  whilst  cow- 
ardice, curiosity,  and  inconsistency,  only  assail  him  in 
proportion  to  the  feebleness  and  indistinctness  with 
which  he  has  perceived  and  rejected  the  delusions  of 
free- will. 

Religion  is  the  perception  of  the  relation  in  which 
we  stand  to  the  principle  of  the  universe.    But  if  the 


120  NOTES. 

principle  of  the  universe  be  not  an  organic  being,  the 
model  and  prototype  of  man,  the  relation  between  it 
and  human  beings  is  absolutely  none;  Without  some 
insight  into  its  will  respecting  our  actions,  religion  is 
nugatory  and  vain.  But  will  is  only  a  mode  of  animal 
mind;  moral  qualities  also  are  such  as  only  a  human 
being  can  possess !  to  attribute  them  to  the  principle  of 
the  universe,  is  to  annex  to  it  properties  incompatible 
with  any  possible  definition  of  its  nature.  It  is  probable 
that  the  word  God  was  originally  only  an  expression 
denoting  the  unknown  cause  of  the  known  events  which 
men  perceived  in  the  universe.  By  the  vulgar  mistake 
of  a  metaphor  for  a  real  being,  of  a  word  for  a  thing,  it 
became  a  man,  endowed  with  human  qualities,  and  go- 
verning the  universe  as  an  earthly  monarch  governs  his 
kingdom.  Their  addresses  to  this  imaginary  being,  in- 
deed, are  much  in  the  same  style  as  those  of  subjects  to 
a  king.  They  acknowledge  his  benevolence,  deprecate 
his  anger,  and  supplicate  his  favour. 

But  the  doctrine  of  necessity  teaches  us,  that  in  no 
case  could  any  event  have  happened  otherwise  than  it 
did  happen,  and  that,  if  God  is  the  author  of  good,  he  is 
also  the  author  of  evil ;  that,  if  he  is  entitled  to  our 
gratitude  for  the  one,  he  is  entitled  to  our  hatred  for  the 
other:  that,  admitting  the  existence  of  this  hypothetic 
being,  he  is  also  subjected  to  the  dominion  of  an  immut- 
able necessity.  It  is  plain  that  the  same  arguments 
which  prove  that  God  is  the  author  of  food,  light,  and 


NOTES.  121 

life,  prove  him  also  to  be  the  author  of  poison,  darkness, 
and  death.  The  wide-wasting  earthquake,  the  storm, 
the  battle,  and  tyranny,  are  attributable  to  this  hy- 
pothetic being  in  the  same  degree  as  the  fairest  forms 
of  nature,  sunshine,  liberty,  and  peace. 

But  we  are  taught,  by  the  doctrine  of  necessity,  that 
there  is  neither  good  nor  evil  in  the  universe,  otherwise 
than  as  the  events  to  which  we  apply  these  epithets 
have  relation  to  our  own  peculiar  mode  of  being.  Still 
less  than  with  the  hypothesis  of  a  God,  will  the  doctrine 
of  necessity  accord  with  the  belief  of  a  future  state  of 
punishment.  God  made  man  such  as  he  is,  and  then 
damned  him  for  being  so:  for  to  say  that  God  was  the 
author  of  all  good,  and  man  the  author  of  all  evil,  is  to 
say  that  one  man  made  a  straight  line  and  a  crooked 
one,  and  another  man  made  the  incongruity. 

A  Mahometan  story,  much  to  the  present  purpose,  is 
recorded,  wherein  Adam  and  Moses  are  introduced  dis- 
puting before  God  in  the  following  manner.  "  Thou," 
says  Moses,  "  art  Adam,  whom  God  created,  and  animated 
with  the  breath  of  life,  and  caused  to  be  worshipped  by 
the  angels,  and  placed  in  Paradise,  from  whence  man- 
kind have  been  expelled  for  thy  fault.''  Whereto,  Adam 
answered,  "  Thou  art  Moses,  whom  God  chose  for  his 
apostle,  and  entrusted  with  his  word,  by  giving  thee  the 
tables  of  the  law,  and  whom  he  vouchsafed  to  admit  to 
discourse  with  himself.  How  many  years  dost  thou  find 
the  law   was  written  before  I  was  created  ?"     Says 


122  NOTES. 

Moses,  "  Forty."  "  And  dost  thou  not  find,"  replied 
Adam,  "  these  words  therein,  And  Adam  rebelled  against 
his  Lord,  and  transgressed  ?"  Which,  Moses  confess- 
ing, "Dost  thou,  therefore,  blame  me,"  continued  he, 
"  fordoing  that  which  God  wrote  of  me  that  I  should  do, 
forty  years  before  I  was  created,  nay,  for  what  was  de- 
creed concerning  me  fifty  thousand  years  before  the 
creation  of  heaven  and  earth  ?" 

Sale's  Prelim.  Dis.  to  the  Koran,  p.  164. 

VIT.  Page  60. 
There  is  no  God! 

This  negation  must  be  understood  solely  to  affect  a 
creative  Deity.  The  hypothesis  of  a  pervading  Spirit 
co-eternal  with  the  universe,  remains  unshaken. 

A  close  examination  of  the  validity  of  the  proofs  ad- 
duced to  support  any  proposition,  is  the  only  secure 
way  of  attaining  truth,  on  the  advantages  of  which  it  is 
unnecessary  to  descant  ;  our  knowledge  of  the  exist- 
ence of  a  Deity  is  a  subject  of  such  importance,  that  it 
cannot  be  too  minutely  investigated  ;  in  consequence  of 
this  conviction  we  proceed  briefly  and  impartially  to 
examine  the  proofs  which  have  been  adduced.  It  is  ne- 
cessary first  to  consider  the  nature  of  belief. 

When  a  proposition  is  offered  to  the  mind,  it  perceives 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  of  which  it  is 
composed.  A  perception  of  their  agreement  is  termed 
belief.    Many  obstacles  frequently  prevent  this  percep- 


NOTES.  J2S 

tion  from  being  immediate  ;  these  the  mind  attempts  to 
remove,  in  order  that  the  perception  may  be  distinct. 
The  mind  is  active  in  the  investigation,  in  order  to  per- 
fect the  state  of  perception  of  the  relation  which  the 
component  ideas  of  the  proposition  bear  to  each,  which 
is  passive  :  the  investigation  being  confused  with  the 
perception,  has  induced  many  falsely  to  imagine  that 
the  mind  is  active  in  belief — that  belief  is  an  act  of  vo- 
lition— in  consequence  of  which  it  may  be  regulated  by 
the  mind.  Pursuing,  continuing  this  mistake,  they  have 
attached  a  degree  of  criminality  to  disbelieve  ;  of 
which,  in  its  nature,  it  is  incapable:  it  is  equally  inca- 
pable of  merit. 

Belief,  then,  is  a  passion,  the  strength  of  which,  like 
every  other  passion,  is  in  precise  proportion  to  the 
degrees  of  excitement. 

The  degrees  of  excitement  are  three. 

The  senses  are  the  sources  of  all  knowledge  to  the 
mind  ;  consequently  their  evidence  claims  the  strongest 
assent. 

The  decision  of  the  mind,  founded  upon  our  own  ex- 
perience, derived  from  these  sources,  claims  the  next 
degree. 

The  experience  of  others,  which  addresses  itself  to- 
the  former  one,  occupies  the  lowest  degree. 

(A  graduated  scale,  on  which  should  be  marked  the 

capabilities  of  propositions  to  approach  to  the  test  of 

the  senses,  would  be  a  just   barometer  of  the   belief 

which  ought  to  be  attached  to  them.) 
L 


184  NOTES. 

Consequently  no  testimony  can  be  admitted  which  is 
contrary  to  reason  ;  reason  is  founded  on  the  evidence 
of  our  senses. 

Every  proof  may  be  referred  to  one  of  these  three 
divisions ;  it  is  to  be  considered  what  arguments  we 
receive  from  each  of  them,  which  should  convince  us  of 
the  existence  of  a  Deity. 

1st.  The  evidence  of  the  senses.  If  the  Deity  should 
appear  to  us,  if  he  should  convince  our  senses,  of  his 
existence,  this  revelation  would  necessarily  command 
belief.  Those  to  whom  the  Deity  has  thus  appeared 
have  the  strongest  possible  conviction  of  his  existence. 
But  the  God  of  Theologians  is  incapable  of  local  visi- 
bility. 

2d.  Reason.  It  is  urged  that  man  knows  that  what- 
ever is,  must  either  have  had  a  beginning,  or  have  ex- 
isted from  all  eternity:  he  also  knows,  that  whatever 
is  not  eternal  must  have  had  a  cause.  When  this  .rea- 
soning is  applied  to  the  universe,  it  is  necessary  t® 
prove  that  it  was  created :  until  that  is  clearly  demon- 
strated, we  may  reasonably  suppose  that  it  has  endur- 
ed from  all  eternity.  We  must  prove  design  before  we 
can  infer  a  designer.  The  only  idea  which  we  can 
form  of  causation  is  derivable  from  the  constant  con- 
junction of  objects,  and  the  consequent  inference  of  one 
from  the  other.  In  a  case  where  two  propositions  are 
diametrically  opposite,  the  mind  believes  that  which  is 
least  incomprehensible ;— it  is   easier  to  suppose  that 


notes.  m 

the  universe  has  existed  from  all  eternity,  than  to  con- 
ceive a  being  beyond  its  limits  capable  of  creating  it : 
if  the  mind  sinks  beneath  the  weight  of  one,  is  it  an 
alleviation  to  increase  the  intolerability  of  the  bur- 
then 7 

The  other  argument  which  is  founded  on  a  man's 
knowledge  of  his  own  existence,  stands  thus.  A  man 
knows  not  only  that  he  now  is,  but  that  once  he  was 
not ;  consequently  there  must  have  been  a  cause.  But 
our  idea  of  causation  is  alone  derivable  from  the  con- 
stant conjunction  of  objects,  and  the  consequent  infer- 
ence of  one  from  the  other  ;  and,  reasoning  experiment- 
ally, we  can-  only  infer  from  effects,  causes  exactly 
adequate  to  those  effects.  But  there  certainly  is  a 
generative  power  which  is  effected  by  certain  instru- 
ments :  we  cannot  prove  that  it  is  inherent  in  these 
instruments ;  nor  is  the  contrary  hyhothesis  capable  of 
demonstration :  we  admit  that  the  generative  power  is 
incomprehensible  ;  but  to  suppose  that  the  same  effect 
is  produced  by  an  eternal,  omniscient,  omnipotent 
being,  leaves  the  cause  in  the  same  obscurity,  but  ren- 
ders it  more  incomprehensible. 

3rd.  Testimony.  It  is  required  that  testimony  should 
not  be  contrary  to  reason.  The  testimony  that  the 
Deity  convinces  the  senses  of  men  of  his  existence,  ean 
©i>ly  be  admitted  by  us,  if  our  mind  considers  it  less 
probable  that  these  men  should  have  been  deceived> 
than  that  the  Deity  should  have  appeared  to  th-era* 
L  2 


120  NOTES. 

Our  reason  can  never  admit  the  testimony  of  men,  who 
not  only  declare  that  they  were  eye-witnesses  of  mira- 
cles, but  that  the  Deity  was  irrational ;  for  he  com- 
manded that  he  should  be  believed,  he  proposed  the 
highest  rewards  for  faith,  eternal  punishments  for  dis- 
belief. We  can  only  command  voluntary  actions; 
belief  is  not  an  act  of  volition  ;  the  mind  is  even  pas- 
sive, or  involuntarily  active :  from  this  it  is  evident  that 
we  have  no  sufficient  testimony,  or  rather  that  testi- 
mony is  insufficient  to  prove  the  being  of  a  God.  It 
has  been  before  shewn  that  it  cannot  be  deduced  from 
reason.  They  alone,  then,  who  have  been  convinced 
by  the  evidence  of  the  senses,  can  believe  it. 

Hence  it  is  evident  that  having  no  proofs  from  either 
of  the  three  sources  of  conviction,  the  mind  cannot 
believe  the  existence  of  a  creative  God  ;  it  is  also  evi- 
dent, that  as  belief  is  a  passion  of  the  mind  no  degree 
of  criminality  is  attachable  to  disbelief ;  and  that  they 
only  are  reprehensible  who  neglect  to  remove  the  false 
medium  through  which  their  mind  views  any  subject  of 
discussion.  Every  reflecting  mind  must  acknowledge 
that  there  is  no  proof  of  the  existence  of  a  Deity. 

God  is  an  hypothesis,  and  as  such,  stands  in  need 
of  proof :  the  onus  probandi*  rests  on  the  theist.  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  says :  Hypotheses  non  fmgo,  quicquid 
enim  ex  phoenomenis  non  deducitur,  hypothesis  voean 


^  The  burthen  of  proving. 


NOTES.  127 

da  est,  et  hypothesis  vel  metaphysics,  vel  physicce,vel 
qualitatum  occultarum,  seu  mcchanicce,  in  philosophies 
locum  non  habent*  To  all  proofs  of  the  existence  of  a 
creative  God  apply  this  valuable  rule.  We  see  a  vari- 
ety of  bodies  possessing  a  variety  of  powers  :  we  merely 
know  their  effects ;  we  are  in  a  state  of  ignorance  with 
respect  to  their  essences  and  causes.  These  Newton 
calls  the  phenomena  of  things  ;  but  the  pride  of  philo- 
sophy is  unwilling  to  admit  its  ignorance  of  their  causes. 
From  the  phenomena,  which  are  the  objects  of  our 
senses,  we  attempt  to  infer  a  cause,  which  we  call  God, 
and  gratuitously  endow  it  with  all  negative  and  con- 
tradictory qualities-  From  this  hypothesis  we  invent 
this  general  name,  to  conceal  our  ignorance  of  causes 
and  essences.  The  being  called  God  by  no  means 
answers  with  the  conditions  prescribed  by  Newton  ;  it 
bears  every  mark  of  a  veil  woven  by  philosophical  con- 
ceit, to  hide  the  ignorance  of  philosophers  even  from 
themselves.  They  borrow  the  threads  of  its  texture 
from  the  anthropomorphism  of  the  vulgar.  Words 
have  been  used  by  sophists  for  the  same  purposes,  from 
the  occult  qualities  of  the  peripatetics  to  the  effluvium 
of  Boyle,  and  the  crinitics  or  nebulae  of  Herschel.  God 

*  I  do  not  raise  an  hypothesis  ;  for  whatever  is  not  de- 
rived from  phoenomena,  is  to  be  called  an  hypothesis ; 
and  hypotheses,  either  metaphysical  or  physical,  or 
grounded  on  hidden  qualities,  or  mechanics,  are  not  ac- 
knowledged in  philosophy. 

L3 


128  NOTES. 

is  represented  as  infinite,  eternal,  incomprehensible; 
he  is  contained  under  every  pr dedicate  in  non  that  the 
logic  of  ignorance  could  fabricate.  Even  his  worship- 
pers allow  that  it  is  impossible  to  form  any  idea  of 
him  :  they  exclaim  with  the  French  poet, 

Poure  dire  ce  quHl  est,  ilfaut  etre  lut-meme* 

Lord  Bacon  says,  that  "  Atheism  leaves  a  man  to 
sense,  to  philosophy,  to  natural  piety,  to  laws,  to  repu- 
tation ;  all  which  may  be  guides  to  an  outward  moral 
virtue,  though  religion  were  not ;  but  superstition  dis- 
mounts all  these,  and  erecteth  an  absolute  monarchy 
in  the  minds  of  men ;  therefore  atheism  did  never 
perturb  states  ;  for  it  makes  men  wary  of  themselves, 
as  looking  no  farther,  and  we  see  the  times  inclined  to 
atheism  (as  the  time  of  Augustus  Caesar)  were  civil 
times:  but  superstition  hath  been  the  confusion  of 
many  states,  and  bringeth  in  a  new  primum  mobile, 
that  ravisheth  all  the  spheres  of  government." 

Bacon's  Moral  Essay  on  Superstition. 

"  The  primitive  theology  of  man  soon  induced  him  to 
fear  and  adore  even  the  elements — gross  and  material 
objects  :  he  next  offered  his  homage  to  the  agents  pre- 
siding over  those  elements,  to  inferior  genii,  to  heroes, 
or  to  men  embued  with  superior  qualities.  By  dint  of 
.reflection,  he  began  to  simplify  things,  by  submitting 

*  To  tell  what  he  is,  you  must  be  himself. 


NOTES'.  J29 

flie  whole  of  nature  to  a  single  agent,  to  an  Intelligence, 
to  a  universal  soul,  which  set  this  nature,  and  its  parts, 
in  motion.  In  ascending  from  cause  to  cause,  mortals 
have  finished  by  seeing  nothing;  and  it  is  in  this  ob- 
scurity that  they  have  placed  their  God,  it  is  in  this  dark 
abyss  that  their  restless  imaginations  are  continually 
labouring  to  fashion  for  themselves  chimeras,  which 
will  perplex  them  until  a  knowledge  of  nature  shall  un- 
deceive them,  regarding  the  phantoms  which  they  have 
always  so  vainly  adored. 

If  we  are  desirous  of  accounting  to  ourselves  for  our 
ideas  respecting  a  Divinity,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  ac- 
knowledge, that,  by  the  word  God,  men  could  only  de- 
note the  most  latent,  the  most  distant,  and  the  most  un- 
known cause  of  the  effects  which  they  beheld.  They  do  not 
employ  this  word  until  the  springs  of  natural  and  definite 
causes  cease  to  be  visible  to  them ;  as  soon  as  they  loose 
the  thread,  or  when  their  minds  can  no  longer  follow 
the  chain  of  these  eauses,  they  solve  their  difficulty, 
and  terminate  their  researches  by  calling  God  the  last 
of  these  causes ;  that  is  to  say,  that  which  is  beyond 
all  the  causes  they  know: — thus  they  only  assign  a 
vague  denomination  to  an  unknown  cause,  at  which 
their  indolence,  or  the  bounds  of  their  information 
forces  them  to  stop. 

Whenever  it  is  said  that  God  is  the  author  of  any 
phenomenon,  it  signifies  that  we  are  ignorant  how  such 
a  phenomenon  could  be  produced  by  the  aid  of  such 


130  NOTES. 

powers  or  causes  a$  we  are  acquainted  with  in  nature. 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  majority  of  mankind,  of 
whom  ignorance  is  the  inheritance,  attribute  to  the  Di- 
vinity, not  merely  the  unusual  effects  which  strike  them, 
but  even  the  most  simple  events,  the  causes  of  which 
are  easily  discovered  by  every  one  capable  of  examining 
them.  In  short,  man  has  always  respected  the  unknown 
causes  of  surprising  effects,  which  his  ignorance  pre- 
vented him  from  unravelling.  It  was  upon  the  wreck  of 
nature  that  men  raised  the  imaginary  Colossus  of  the 
Divinity. 

If  ignorance  of  nature  gave  birth  to  gods,  the  know- 
ledge of  nature  is  calculated  to  destroy  them.  In  pro- 
portion as  man  improves  in  knowledge,  his  energies  and 
his  resources  augment:  the  sciences,  the  useful  arts, 
and  industry,  furnish  him  with  assistance;  experience 
emboldens  him,  or  procures  him  the  means  of  resisting 
the  effects  of  many  causes,  which  cease  to  alarm  him  as 
soon  as  he  is  acquainted  with  them.  In  a  word,  his  ter- 
rors are  dissipated  in  the  same  proportion  as  his  mind 
is  enlightened.  The  enlightened  man  ceases  to  be  su- 
perstitious. 

It  is  only  upon  hearsay  that  whole  nations  adore  the 
God  of  their  fathers,  and  their  priests ;  authority,  con- 
fidence, submission,  and  custom,  serve  them  in  the  place 
of  conviction  and  proofs  ;  they  kneel  and  pray  because 
their  fathers  have  taught  them  to  kneel  and  to  pray: 
but  why  did  the  latter  prostrate  themselves  !— Because, 


NOTES.  131 

in  remote  ages,  their  legislators  and  leaders  made  it  a 
duty  for  them  to  do  so.  "  Adore  and  believe,''  said 
they,  "in  the  gods  you  cannot  comprehend;  trust  to 
our  profound  wisdom,  we  know  more  of  God  than  you 
do."  "But  why  should  I  trust  in  you?"  "Because 
God  commands  it,  and  he  will  punish  you  if  you  dare 
oppose  his  will."  "  But  is  not  this  God  the  subject  in 
question?"  Nevertheless, men  have  always  been  gulled 
with  this  juggling  circle;  and  the  indolence  of  their 
minds  induced  them  to  think  the  shortest  way  was  to 
rely  upon  the  judgments  of  others. 

All  religious  notions  are  founded  solely  upon  autho- 
rity ;  all  the  religions  in  the  world  prohibit  investi- 
gation, and  forbid  reasoning  ;  it  is  authority  that  re- 
quires belief  in  God,  and  this  God  is  only  founded  on 
the  authority  of  some  men  who  pretend  to  know  him, 
and  to  come  in  his  behalf  to  proclaim  him  upon  earth. 
A  God  created  by  men,  has  doubtless  occasion  for  hu- 
man agency  to  make  himself  known  to  mankind. 

Should,  then,  the  conviction  of  the  existence  of  a 
God  be  reserved  only  for  the  priests  of  the  fanatics,  for 
metaphysicians,  while  it  is  said  to  be  so  necessary  for 
the  whole  human  race  ?  But  do  we  discover  any  har- 
mony between  the  theological  opinions  of  the  different 
inspired,  or  contemplative  persons,  scattered  upon  the 
earth?  Do  those  who  make  profession  of  adoring  the 
same  God  agree  respecting  him?  Are  they  satisfied 
with  the  proofs  given  them  by  their  colleagues  of  hU 


132  NOTES. 

existence  1  Do  they  subscribe  unanimously  to  the  ideas 
they  offer  upon  his  nature,  upon  Ms  conduct,  upon  the 
manner  of  interpreting  his  pretended  oracles?  Is  there 
a  country  upon  earth,  where  the  science  of  God  is  really 
brought  to  perfection  ?  Has  it  received,  in  any  degree, 
the  consistency  and  uniformity  that  we  perceive  to  have 
been  acquired  by  other  parts  of  human  knowledge,  by  the 
most  useless  arts,  by  the  most  despised  trades  ?  The  words 
spirits,  immateriality,  creation,  predestination,  and 
grace ;  those  numerous  subtle  distinctions  with  which  the- 
ology, in  some  countries,  is  entirely  filled,  those  ingeni- 
ous inventions  conceived  by  successive  generations  of 
tinkers  have  tended,  alas !  only  to  perplex  things,  andthe 
science  the  most  necessary  to  man,  has  not  hitherto  ac- 
quired the  least  stability.  During  thousands  of  years, 
idle  dreamers  have  been  continually  relieved  by  others 
to  contemplate  the  Deity — to  divine  his  hidden  ways — 
to  invent  hypothesises  adapted  to  develope  this  impor- 
tant enigma.  The  want  of  success  has  not  discouraged 
theological  vanity ;  God  has  always  been  the  subject  of 
conversation :  murders  have  been  continually  perpe- 
trated on  his  account,  and  yet  this  sublime  being  still 
remains  most  unknown,  and  the  most  disputed. 

Men  would  have  been  too  happy,  if,  confining  them- 
selves to  the  visible  objects,  which  interest  them, 
they  had  employed  half  the  efforts  they  have  used  in 
their  researches  upon  the  Divinity,  to  perfect  their  real 
sciences,  their  laws,  their  morals,  and  their  education. 


NOTES.  133 

They  would  have  been  yet  more  wise  and  more  fortu- 
nate, if  they  had  agreed  to  leave  their  unemployed  pas- 
tors to  quarrel  with  each  other,  and  examine  their  pro- 
found labyrinths,  so  capable  of  causing-  dissentions, 
without  joining  in  their  senseless  broils.  But  it  is  the 
essence  of  ignorance  to  attach  importance  to  what  it 
does  not  comprehend.  Human  vanity  strengthens  the 
mind  against  difficulties.  The  more  an  object  is  con- 
cealed from  our  view,  the  greater  efforts 'we  make  to 
attain  it,  because  it  goads  our  pride,  it  excites  our 
curiosity,  and  it  appears  to  us  more  interesting.  In 
fighting  for  his  God,  each  man  fights,  in  fact,  but  for  the 
interests  of  his  own  vanity,  which,  of  all  the  passions 
produced  by  the  evil  organization  of  society,  is  the- 
most  prompt  to  be  alarmed,  and  the  most  apt  to  produce- 
very  great  follies. 

If,  discarding  for  a  moment  the  dismal  ideas  given  us 
by  theology  of  a  capricious  God,  whose  partial  and 
despotic  decrees  decide  the  fate  of  human  beings,  we 
wished  to  observe  only  that  pretended  goodness  which 
all  men,  even  trembling  before  this  God,  agree  to  assign 
him;  if  we  allow  him  the  project  they  have  ascribed  to 
him  of  having  worked  only  for  his  own  glory,  to  require 
the  adoration  of  intelligent  beings  ;  to  design  nothing  in 
his  works  but  the  welfare  of  the  human  race,  how  can 
we  conciliate  his  views  and  his  dispositions  with  the  ig- 
norance so  truly  invincible,  in  which  this  God,  so  glo- 


131  NOTES. 

rious,  and  so  good,  leaves  the  majority  of  mankind  con- 
cerning himself?  If  God  wishes  to  be  known,  loved, 
and  thanked,  why  does  he  not  appear  under  favourable 
colours  to  all  those  intelligent  beings  by  whom  he 
wishes  to  be  loved  and  adored  ?  Why  does  he  not  make 
himself  manifest  to  all  the  earth  in  an  unequivocal 
manner — in  a  method  much  more  capable  of  convincing 
us,  than  those  private  revelations  which  seem  to  ac- 
cuse the  Divinity  of  a  shameful  partiality  for  some  of 
his  creatures  ?  Would  not  the  Almighty  then  have 
more  convincing  means  of  discovering  himself  to  men, 
than  those  metaphorphoses,  those  pretended  incarna- 
tions, attested  by  writers  of  so  little  concordance  with 
each  other,  in  their  recitals  of  these  events.  Instead 
of  so  many  miracles,  contrived  to  prove  the  mission  of 
so  many  legislators,  reverenced  by  different  nations  of 
the  world,  could  not  the  sovereign  of  spirits  convince 
the  human  mind,  of  those  things  he  wished  to  make 
Icnown,  by  a  single  action.  Instead  of  suspending  the 
sun  in  the  vault  of  the  firmament ;  instead  of  scattering 
the  stars  without  order,  and  the  constellations  which 
fill  space,  would  it  not  have  been  more  conformable  to 
the  views  of  a  God  so  jealous  of  his  glory,  and  so  be- 
neficent toman,  toinscribein  amannernot  subjeetto  dis- 
pute, his  name,  his  attributes,  and  his  permanent  wishes, 
in  indelible  characters,  equally  legible  to  all  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  earth.    No  person  could  then  doubt  the 


NOTES.  135 

existence  of  a  God,  his  clear  will,  his  visible  intentions. 
Under  the  observation  of  a  God  so  terrible,  no  one 
would  have  had  the  audacity  to  break  his  command- 
ments ;  no  mortal  would  have  dared  to  incur  his  anger : 
in  fine,  no  man  would  have  had  the  effrontery  to  impose 
on  others,  in  his  name,  or  to  interpret  his  ordinances 
according  to  his  own  fancy. 

In  fact,  if  even  the  existence  of  the  theologic  God, 
and  the  reality  of  the  attributes  so  discordantly  assigned 
to  him  should  be  admitted  ;  no  conclusion  can  be  drawn 
from  such  admission,  to  authorize  the  different  forms  of 
worship,  prescribed  to  be  rendered  him.  Theology  is 
truly  the  Tub  of  the  Danaides.  By  contradictory  quali- 
ties, and  hazarded  assertions,  it  has,  as  it  were,  so  ma- 
nacled its  Deity,  as  to  prevent  him  from  acting.  If  he 
be  infinitely  good,  what  reason  have  we  to  fear  him  ? — 
If  he  be  infinitely  wise,  why  do  we  trouble  ourselves 
about  futurity.  If  he  be  omniscient,  why  do  we  ap- 
prize him  of  our  wants,  and  fatigue  him  with  our 
prayers  ?  If  he  be  omnipresent,  why  build  temples  for 
him?  If  he  be  omnipotent,  why  present  to  him  sacri- 
fices and  offerings?  If  he  be  just,  how  can  we  believe, 
that  he  will  punish  the  creatures  he  has  made  so  feeble  ? 
If  he  be  omnipotent,  how  can  he  be  offended,  or  how 
resisted  ?  If  he  be  reasonable,  why  is  he  displeased  with 
blind  mortals,  to  whom  he  has  left  the  liberty  of  acting 
contrary  to  his  wishes  ?    If  he  be  immutable,  by  what 

right  do  we  pretend  to  induce  him  to  change  his  decrees? 

M 


136  NOTES. 

If  he  be  inconceivable,  why  do  we  trouble  ourselves 
about  him?  If  he  has  spoken,  why  is  not  the  uni- 
verse convinced  ?  If  the  knowledge  of  a  God  is  the 
most  necessary,  why  is  it  not  the  most  evident  and  the 
most  clear.* 

Systeme  de  la  Nature.  Seconde  Partie. 

The  enlightened  and  benevolent  Pliny  thus  publicly 
professes  himself  an  atheist : — Quapropter  effigiem  Dei, 
formamque  quaerere,  imbecillitatis  humanae  reor.   Quis- 
quis  est  Deus  (si  modo  est  alius)  et  quacunque  in  parte, 
totus  est  sensus,  totus  est  visus,  totus   auditus,  totus 
animse,  totus  animi,  totus  sui.    —    —    —    —    —    — 

Imperfecta^  vero  in  homine  naturae  praecipua  solatia 
ne  deum  quidem  posse  omnia.  Namque  nee  sibi  po- 
test mortem  consciscere,  si  velit,  quod  homini  dedit 
optimum  in  tantis  vitas  pcenis  :  nee  mortales  aeternitate 
donare,  aut  revocare  defunctos  ;  nee  facere  ut  qui  vixit 
non  vixerit,  qui  honores  gessit  non  gesserit,  nullumque 
habere  in  praeteritum  jus,  praeterquam  oblivionis,  atque 
(ut  facetis  quoque  argumentis  societas  haec  cum  deo 
copuletur)  ut  bis  dena  viginta  non  sint,  et  multa  simi- 
liter efficere   non  posse. — Per   quae,  declaratur    haud 


*  A  literal  translation  is  here  substituted  for  the 
French,  quoted  by  the  author.  The  passages  brought 
together  in  this  extract  do  not  follow  each  other  in  the 
original,  but  are  selected  from  different  parts  of  the  se- 
cond volume. 


NOTES.  137 

dubie,  naturae  potentiam  id  quoque  esse,  quod  Deum 
vocamus.* — Plin.  Nat.  His.  cap.  de  Deo. 

The  consistent  Newtonian  is  necessarily  an  atheist. 
See  Sir  W.  Drummond's  Academical  Questions,  chap, 
iii. — Sir  W.  seems  to  consider  the  atheism  to  which  it 
leads,  as  a  sufficient  presumption  of  the  falsehood  of 
the  system  of  gravitation :  but  surely  it  is  more  con- 
sistent with  the  good  faith  of  philosophy  to  admit  a 
deduction  from  facts,  than  an  hypothesis  incapable  of 
proof,  although  it  might  militate  with  the  obstinate 
preconceptions  of  the  mob.  Had  this  author,  instead 
of  inveighing  against  the  guilt  and  absurdity  of  atheism, 


*  Wherefore,  I  think,  to  enquire  concerning  the  mode 
of  being  and  likeness  of  God  is  to  be  ascribed  to  human 
folly.  For  whatever  God  is,  (if  he  has  any  existence) 
and  in  whatever  place,  he  must  be  all  perception,  all 
sight,  all  hearing,  all  mind,  all  life,  and  self-existent. 
—  —  —  —  But  it  is  a  peculiar  satisfaction  to  man, 
in  all  the  imperfections  of  his  nature,  that  God  cannot 
do  every  thing.  He  cannot  commit  suicide  even  should 
he  wish  to  die,  the  power  to  do  which,  gives  to  man  the 
greatest  comfort  amidst  the  numerous  evils  of  life : 
neither  can  God  render  human  beings  eternal ;  nor  call 
the  dead  into  existence ;  nor  make  those  who  lived  here- 
tofore, not  to  have  lived  ;  nor  those  who  have  borne 
honours  in  their  day,  not  to  have  borne  them  ;  he  has 
no  power  over  the  past,  except  that  of  oblivion  ;  and 
(if  they  will  allow  us  to  joke  while  discoursing  about 
God)  he  cannot  prevent  twice  ten  from  being  twenty, 
and  many  other  things  of  the  same  kind:  by  which  it 
is  proved,  without  doubt,  that  what  we  call  God  is  the 
power  of  Nature. 

M  2 


!S8  NOTES. 

demonstrated  its  falsehood,  his  conduct  would  have 
been  more  suited  to  the  modesty  of  the  sceptic,  and 
the  toleration  of  the  philosopher.  dd3" 

Omnia  enim  per  Dei  potentiam  facta  sunt :  irao,  quia 
natura  potentia  nulla  est  nisi  ipsa  Dei  potentia,  autem 
est  nos  eatenus  Dei  potentiam  non  intelligere,  quatenus 
causas  naturales  ignoramus  ;  adeoque  stulte  ad  eandem 
Dei  potentiam  recurritur,  quando  rei  alicujus,  causams 
naturalem,  sive  est,  ipsam  Dei  potentiam  ignoramus.* — 
Spinosa,  Tract.  Theologico-Pol.  chap.  i.  p.  14v 

VII.  Page  62. 

Ahasuerus,  rise! 
"  Ahasuerus  the  Jew  crept  forth  from  the  dark  cave  of 
Mount  Carmel.  Near  two  thousand  years  have  elapsed 
since  he  was  first  goaded  by  never-ending  restlessness, 
to  rove  the  globe  from  pole  to  pole.  When  our  Lord 
was  wearied  with  the  burthen  of  his  ponderous  cross, 
and  wanted  to  rest  before  the  door  of  Ahasuerus,  the 
unfeeling  wretch  drove  him  away  with  brutality.  The 
Saviour  of  mankind  staggered,  sinking  under  the  heavy 


*  All  things  are  effected  by  the  power  of  God ;  yet  it  is 
because  the  power  of  nature  is  no  other  than  the  power 
of  God;  we  are  moreover  unable  to  comprehend  the 
power  of  God  as  far  as  we  are  ignorant  of  natural 
causes ;  therefore  the  power  of  God  is  foolishly  re- 
ferred to,  when  we  are  ignorant  of  the  natural  cause 
of  any  thing,  or  which  is  the  same  thing,  with  the  power 
of  God. 


NOTES.  139 

load,  but  uttered  no  complaint.  An  angel  of  death  ap- 
peared before  Ahasuerus,  and  exclaimed  indignantly, 
'Barbarian!  thou  hast  denied  rest  to  the  Son  of  Man: 
be  it  denied  thee  also,  until  he  comes  to  judge  the 
world.' 

A  black  demon,  let  loose  from  hell  upon  Ahasuerus, 
goads  him  now  from  country  to  country ;  he  is  denied 
the  consolation  which  death  affords,  and  precluded  from 
the  rest  of  the  peaceful  grave. 

Ahasuerus  crept  forth  from  the  dark  cave  of  Mount 
Carmel — he  shook  the  dust  from  his  beard — and  taking 
up  one  of  the  sculls  heaped  there,  hurled  it  down  the 
eminence:  it  rebounded  from  the  earth  in  shivered 
atoms.  This  was  my  father  !  roared  Ahasuerus.  Seven 
more  sculls  rolled  down  from  rock  to  rock ;  while  the 
infuriate  Jew,  following  them  with  ghastly  looks,  ex- 
claimed— And  these  were  my  wives;  He  still  continued 
to  hurl  down  scull  after  scull,  roaring  in  dreadful  ac- 
cents— And  these,  and  these,  and  these  were  my  chil- 
dren !  They  could  die ;  but  I !  reprobate  wretch,  alas ! 
I  cannot  die!  Dreadful  beyond  conception  is  the  judg- 
ment that  hangs  over  me.  Jerusalem  fell — I  crushed 
the  sucking  babe,  and  precipitated  myself  into  the 
destructive  flames.  I  cursed  the  Romans — but,  alas ! 
alas !  the  restless  curse  held  me  by  the  hair — and  I 
could  not  die ! 

Rome  the  giantess  fell — I  placed  myself  before  the 

falling  statue — she  fell,  and  did  not  crush  me.     Nations 
M3 


140  NOTES. 

sprung  up  and  disappeared  before  me — hut  I  remained, 
and  did  not  die.  From  cloud-encircled  cliffs  did  I  pre- 
cipitate myself  into  the  ocean — but  the  foaming  billows 
cast  me  upon  the  shore,  and  the  burning  arrow  of  exist- 
ence pierced  my  cold  heart  again.  I  leaped  into  Etna's 
flaming  abyss,  and  roared  with  the  giants  for  ten  long 
months,  polluting  with  my  groans  the  Mount's  sul- 
phureous mouth — ah  !  ten  long  months.  The  volcano 
fermented — and,  in  a  fiery  stream  of  lava,  cast  me  up. 
I  lay  torn  by  the  torture- snakes  of  hell,  amid  the  glow- 
ing cinders,  and  yet  continued  to  exist.  A  forest  was 
on  fire :  I  darted  on  wings  of  fury  and  despair  into  the 
crackling  wood.  Fire  dropped  upon  me  from  the  trees, 
but  the  flames  only  singed  my  limbs — alas !  it  could  not 
consume  them.  I  now  mixed  with  the  butchers  of  man- 
kind, and  plunged  in  the  tempest  of  the  raging  battle. 
I  roared  defiance  to  the  infuriate  Gaul — defiance  to  the 
victorious  German ;  but  arrows  and  spears  rebounded  in 
shivers  from  my  body.  The  Saracen's  flaming  sword 
broke  upon  my  scull — balls  in  Tain  hissed  upon  me — the 
lightnings  of  battle  glared  harmless  around  my  loins — 
in  vain  did  the  elephant  trample  on  me — in  vain  the  iron 
hoof  of  the  wrathful  steed !  The  mine,  big  with  de- 
structive power,  burst  upon  me,  and  hurled  me  high  in 
the  air — I  fell  on  heaps  of  smoking  limbs,  but  was  only 
singed.  The  giant's  steel  club  rebounded  from  my 
body  ;  the  executioner's  hand  could  not  strangle  me  ; 
the  tyger's  tooth  could  not  pierce  me,  nor  would  the 


XOTES.  141 

hungry  Hon  in  the  circus  devour  me.  I  cohabited  with 
poisonous  snakes,  and  pinched  the  red  crest  of  the  dra- 
gon. The  serpent  stung,  but  could  not  destroy  me ; — 
the  dragon  tormented,  but  dared  not  to  devour  me.  I 
now  provoked  the  fury  of  tyrants :  I  said  to  Nero, 
Thou  art  a  bloodhound  !  I  said  to  Christiern,  Thou  art  a 
bloodhound  I  I  said  to  Muley  Ismail,  Thou  art  a  blood- 
hound I   The  tyrants  invented  cruel  torments,  but  did 

not  kill  me. Ha  1  not  to  be  able  to  die — not 

to  be  able  to  die — not  to  be  permitted  to  rest  after  the 
toils  of  life — to  be  doomed  to  be  imprisoned  for  ever  in 
the  clay-formed  dungeon — to  be  for  ever  dogged  with 
this  worthless  body,  its  load  of  diseases  and  infirmities 
— to  be  condemned  to  hold  for  millenniums  that  yawning 
monster  Sameness  and  Time,  that  hungry  hyena,  ever 
bearing   children,  and  ever  devouring  again  her  off- 
spring!— Hal  not  to  be  permitted  to  die  I  Awful  avenger 
in  heaven,  hast  thou  in  thine  armoury  of  wrath  a  pu- 
nishment more  dreadful  ? — then  let  it  thunder  upon  me, 
command  a  hurricane  to  sweep  me  down  to  the  foot  of 
Carmel,  that  I  there  may  lie  extended  :  may  pant,  and 
writhe,  and  die  !'*  —    —    —    —    —    —    —    —    — 

This  fragment  is  the  translation  of  part  of  some  G  er- 
mau  work,  whose  title  I  have  vainly  endeavoured  to  dis- 
cover. I  picked  it  up,  dirty  and  torn,  some  years  ago, 
in  Lincoin's-Inn  Fields. 


142  NOTES. 

VII.  Page  65. 
J  will  beget  a  Son,  and  he  shall  bear 
7Jhe  sins  of  all  the  world. 

A  book  is  put  into  our  hands  when  children,  called 
the  Bible,  the  purport  of  whose  history  is  briefly  this: 
That  God  made  the  earth  in  six  days,  and^ there  planted 
a  delightful  garden,  in  which  he  placed  the  first  pair  of 
human  beings.  In  the  midst  of  the  garden  he  planted 
a  tree,  whose  fruit,  although  within  their  reach,  they 
were  forbidden  to  touch.  That  the  Devil,  in  the  shape 
of  a  snake,  persuaded  them  to  eat  of  this  fruit ;  in  con- 
sequence of  which,  God  condemned  both  them  and  their 
posterity,  yet  unborn,  to  satisfy  his  justice  by  their 
eternal  misery.  That,  four  thousand  years  after  these 
events,  (the  human  race  in  the  mean  while  having  gone 
unredeemed  to  perdition)  God  engendered  with  the  be- 
trothed wife  of  a  carpenter  in  Judea,  (whose  virginity 
was  nevertheless  uninjured)  and  begat  a  Son,  whose 
name  was  Jesus  Christ ;  and  who  was  crucified  and  died, 
in  order  that  no  more  men  might  be  devoted  to  hell-fire, 
he  bearing  the  burden  of  his  Father's  displeasure  by 
proxy.  The  book  states,  in  addition,  that  the  soul  of 
whoever  disbelieves  his  sacrifice  will  be  burned  with 
everlasting  fire. 

During  many  ages  of  misery  and  darkness  this  story 
gained  implicit  belief;  but  at  length  men  arose  who 
suspected  that  it  was  a  fable  and  imposture,  and  that 
Jesus  Christ,  so  far  from  being  a  God,  was  only  a  man 


NOTES.  143 

like  themselves.  But  a  numerous  set  of  men,  who  de- 
rived and  still  derive  immense  emoluments  from  this 
opinion,  in  the  shape  of  a  popular  belief,  told  the  vul- 
gar, that,  if  they  did  not  believe  in  the  Bible,  they 
would  be  damned  to  all  eternity;  and  burned,  impri- 
soned, and  poisoned  all  the  unbiassed  and  unconnected 
enquirers  who  occasionally  arose.  They  still  oppress 
them,  so  far  as  the  people,  now  become  more  enlight- 
ened, will  allow. 

The  belief  in  all  that  the  Bible  contains,  is  called 
Christianity.    A  Roman  Governor  of  Judea,  at  the  in- 
stance of  a  priest -led  mob,  crucified  a  man  called  Jesus, 
eighteen  centuries  ago.    He  was  a  man  of  pure  life, 
who  desired  to  rescue  his  countrymen  from  the  tyranny 
of  their  barbarous  and  degrading  superstitions.    The 
common  fate  of  all  who  desire  to  benefit  mankind  a- 
waited  him.   The  rabble,  at  the  instigation  of  the  priests, 
demanded  his  death,  although  his  very  judge  made  pub- 
lic acknowledgment  of  his  innocence,    Jesus  was  sa- 
crificed to  the  honour  of  that  God  with  whom  he  was 
afterwards  confounded.     It  is  of  importance,  therefore, 
to  distinguish  between  the  pretended  character  of  this 
being,  as  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
and  his  real  character  as  a  man,  who,  for  a  vain  attempt 
to  reform  the  world,  paid  the  forfeit  of  his  life  to  that 
overbearing  tyranny  which  has  since  so  long  desolate 
the  universe  in  his  name.  Whilst  the  one  is  a  hypocriti- 
cal daemon,  who  announces  himself  as  the  God  of  com- 


144  NOTES. 

passion  and  peace,  even  whilst  he  stretches  forth  his 
blood-red  hand  with  the  sword  of  discord  to  waste  the 
earth,  having  confessedly  devised  this  scheme  of  deso- 
lation from  eternity  ;  the  other  stands  in  the  foremost  list 
of  those  true  heroes,  who  have  died  in  the  glorious  mar- 
tyrdom of  liberty,  and  have  braved  torture,  contempt, 
and  poverty,  in  the  cause  of  suffering  humanity.* 

The  vulgar,  ever  in  extremes,  became  persuaded  that 
the  crucifixion  of  Jesus  was  a  supernatural  event.  Tes- 
timonies of  miracles,  so  frequent  in  unenlightened  ages, 
were  not  wanting,  to  prove  that  he  was  something  di- 
vine. This  belief,  rolling  through  the  lapse  of  ages, 
met  with  the  reveries  of  Plato,  and  the  reasonings  of 
Aristotle,  and  acquired  force  and  extent,  until  the  di- 
vinity of  Jesus  became  a  dogma,  which  to  dispute  was 
death,  which  to  doubt  was  infamy. 

Christianity  is  now  the  established  religion  :  he  who 
attempts  to  impugn  it,  must  be  contented  to  behold 
murderers  and  traitors  take  precedence  of  him  in  pub- 
lic opinion;  though,  if  his  genius  be  equal  to  his  cou- 
rage, and  assisted  by  a  peculiar  coalition  of  circum- 
stances, future  ages  may  exalt  him  to  a  divinity,  and 
persecute  others  in  his  name,  as  he  was  persecuted  in 
the  name  of  his  predecessor  in  th»  homage  of  the 
world. 


*  Since  writing  this  note,  I  have  seen  reason  to  sus- 
pect, that  Jesus  was  an  ambitious  man,  who  aspired  to 
the  throne  of  Judea, 


NOTES.  145 

The  same  means  tha*  have  supported  every  other  po- 
pular belief,  have  supported  Christianity.  War,  im- 
prisonment, assassination,  and  falsehood;  deeds  of  un- 
exampled and  incomparable  atrocity  have  made  it  what 
it  is.  The  blood  shed  by  the  votai'ies  of  the  God  of 
mercy  and  peace,  since  the  establishment  of  his  reli- 
gion, would  probably  suffice  to  drown  all  other  sectaries 
now  on  the  habitable  globe,  We  derive  from  our  an- 
cestors a  faith  thus  fostered  and  supported  :  we  quarrel, 
persecute,  and  hate  for  its  maintenance.  Even  under  a 
government  which,  whilst  it  infringes  the  very  right  of 
thought  and  speech,  boasts  of  permitting  the  liberty  of 
the  press,  a  man  is  pilloried  and  imprisoned  because  he 
is  a  Deist,  and  no  one  raises  his  voice  in  the  indignation 
of  outraged  humanity.*  But  it  is  ever  a  proof  that  the 
falsehood  of  a  proposition  is  felt  by  those  who  use 
coercion,  not  reasoning,  to  procure  its  admission ;  and 
a  dispassionate  observer  would  feel  himself  more  pow- 
erfully interested  in  favour  of  a  man,  who,  depending  on 
the  truth  of  his  opinions,  simply  stated  his  reasons  for 
entertaining  them,  than  in  that  of  his  aggressor,  who, 
daringly  avowing  his  unwillingness  or  incapacity  to  an- 
swer them  by  argument,  proceeded  to  repress  the  ener- 
gies, and  break  the  spirit  of  their  promulgator,  by  that 
torture  and  imprisonment  whose  infliction  he  could 
command. 

*  Alluding  to  the  case  of  Daniel  Isaac  Eaton. 


146  NOTES. 

Analogy  seems  to  favour  the  opinion,  that  as,  like 
other  systems,  Christianity  has  arisen  and  augmented, 
so  like  them  it  will  decay  and  perish ;  that,  as  vio- 
lence, darkness,  and  deceit,  not  reasoning  and  persua- 
sion, have  procured  its  admission  among  mankind,  so, 
when  enthusiasm  has  subsided,  and  time,  that  infallible 
controverter  of  false  opinions,  has  involved  its  pre- 
tended evidences  in  the  darkness  of  antiquity,  it  will  be- 
come obsolete ;  that  Milton's  poem  alone  will  give  per- 
manency to  the  remembrance  of  its  absurdities ;  and 
that  men  will  laugh  as  heartily  at  grace,  faith,  redemp- 
tion, and  original  sin,  as  they  now  do  at  the  metamor- 
phoses of  Jupiter,  the  miracles  of  Romish  saints,  the 
efficacy  of  witchcraft,  and  the  appearance  of  departed 
spirits. 

Had  the  Christian  religion  commenced  and  continued 
by  the  mere  force  of  reasoning  and  persuasion,  the  pre- 
ceding analogy  would  be  inadmissible.  We  should 
never  speculate  on  the  future  obsoleteness  of  a  system 
perfectly  conformable  to  nature  and  reason :  it  would 
endure  so  long  as  they  endured ;  it  would  be  a  truth  as 
indisputable  as  the  light  of  the  sun,  the  criminality  of 
murder,  and  other  facts,  whose  evidence,  depending  on 
our  organization  and  relative  situations,  must  remain 
acknowledged  as  satisfactory,  so  long  as  man  is  man. 
It  is  an  incontrovertible  fact,  the  consideration  of  which 
ought  to  repress  the  hasty  conclusions  of  credulity,  or 
moderate  its  obstinacy  in  maintaining  them,  that,  had 


NOTES.  147 

the  Jews  not  been  a  fanatical  race  of  men,  had  even  the 
resolution  of  Pontius  Pilate  been  equal  to  his  candour, 
the  Christian  religion  never  could  have  prevailed,  it 
could  not  even  have  existed :  on  so  feeble  a  thread  hangs 
the  most  cherished  opinion  of  a  sixth  of  the  human 
race  !  When  will  the  vulgar  learn  humility?  When  will 
the  pride  of  ignorance  blush  at  having  believed  before 
it  could  comprehend? 

Either  the  Christian  religion  is  true,  or  it  is  false  : 
if  true,  it  comes  from  God,  and  its  authenticity  can 
admit  of  doubt  and  dispute  no  further  than  its  omni- 
potent author  is  willing  to  allow.  Either  the  power  or 
the  goodness  of  God  is  called  in  question,  if  he  leaves 
those  doctrines  most  essential  to  the  well-being  of  man 
in  doubt  and  dispute;  the  only  ones  which,  since  their 
promulgation,  have  been  the  subject  of  unceasing 
cavil,  the  cause  of  irreconcilable  hatred.  If  God  has 
spoken,  ivhy  is  the  universe  not  convinced  ? 

There  is  this  passage  in  the  Christian  Scriptures: — 
"  Those  who  obey  not  God,  and  believe  not  the  Gos- 
pel of  his  Son,  shall  be  punished  with  everlasting 
destruction.''  This  is  the  pivot  upon  which  all  reli- 
gions turn :  they  all  assume  that  it  is  in  our  power  to 
believe  or  not  to  believe  ;  whereas,  the  mind  can  only 
believe  that  which  it  thinks  true.  A  human  being 
can  only  be  supposed  accountable  for  those  actions 
which  are  influenced  by  his  will.  But  belief  is  utterly 
distinct  from  and  unconnected  with   volition:  it  is  the 


148  NOTES. 

apprehension  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the 
ideas  that  compose  any  proposition.  Belief  is  a  pas- 
sion, or  involuntary  operation  of  the  mind,  and,  like 
other  passions,  its  intensity  is  precisely  proportionate 
to  the  degrees  of  excitement.  Volition  is  essential  to 
merit  or  demerit.  But  the  Christian  religion  attaches 
the  highest  possible  degrees  of  merit  and  demerit  to 
that  which  is  worthy  of  neither,  and  which  is  totally 
unconnected  with  the  peculiar  faculty  of  the  mind, 
whose  presence  is  essential  to  their  being. 

Christianity  was  intended  to  reform  the  world :  had 
an  all-wise  Being  planned  it,  nothing  is  more  impro- 
bable than  that  it  should  have  failed:  omniscience 
would  infallibly  have  foreseen  the  inutility  of  a  scheme 
which  experience  , demonstrates,  to  this  age,  to  have 
been  utterly  unsuccessful. 

Christianity  inculcates  the  necessity  of  supplicating 
the  Deity.  Prayer  may  be  considered  under  two  points 
of  view ;  as  an  endeavour  to  change  the  intentions  of 
God,  or  as  a  formal  testimony  of  our  obedience.  But 
the  former  case  supposes  that  the  caprices  of  a  limited 
intelligence  can  occasionally  instruct  the  Creator  of 
the  world  how  to  regulate  the  universe  ;  and  the  latter, 
a  certain  degree  of  servility  analogous  to  the  loyalty 
demanded  by  earthly  tyrants.  Obedience,  indeed,  is 
only  the  pitiful  and  cowardly  egotism  of  him  who 
thinks  that  he  can  do  something  better  than  reason. 

Christianity,  like  all  other  religions,  rests  uponmira- 


NOTES.  140 

cles,  prophecies,  and  martyrdoms.  No  religion  ever 
existed,  which  had  not  its  prophets,  its  attested  mira- 
cles, and,  above  all,  crowds  of  devotees  who  would 
bear  patiently  the  most  horrible  tortures  to  prove  its 
authenticity.  Jt  should  appear  that  in  no  case  can  a 
discriminating  mind  subscribe  to  the  genuineness  of  a 
miracle.  A  miracle  is  an  infraction  of  nature's  law, 
by  a  supernatural  cause ;  by  a  cause  acting  beyond  that 
eternal  circle  within  which  all  things  are  included. — 
God  breaks  through  the  law  of  nature,  that  he  may 
convince  mankind  of  the  truth  of  that  revelation  which, 
in  spite  of  his  precautions,  has  been,  since  its  intro- 
duction, the  subject  of  unceasing  schism  and  cavil. 

Miracles  resolve  themselves  into  the  following  ques- 
tion:*— Whether  it  is  more  probable  the  laws  of  na- 
ture, hitherto  so  immutably  harmonious,  should  have 
undergone  violation,  or  that  a  man  should  have  told  a 
lie?  Whether  it  is  more  probable  that  we  are  ignorant 
of  the  natural  cause  of  an  event,  or  that  we  know  the 
supernatural  one  ?  That,  in  old  times,  when  the  powers 
of  nature  were  less  known  than  at  present,  a  certain 
set  of  men  were  themselves  deceived,  or  had  some 
hidden  motive  for  deceiving  others  ;  or  that  God  begat 
a  son,  who,  in  his  legislation,  measuring  merit  by  be- 
lief, evidenced  himself  to  be  totally  ignorant  of  the 
powers  of  the  human  mind — of  what  is  voluntary,  and 
what  is  the  contrary  ? 

*  See  Hume's  Essav,  vol.  ii.  page  121. 
N  i 


no  NOTES. 

We  have  many  instances  of  men  telling  lies; — none 
of  an  infraction  of  nature's  laws — those  laws,  of  whose 
government  alone  we  have  any  knowledge  or  experi- 
ence. The  records  of  all  nations  afford  innumerable 
instances  of  men  deceiving  others  either  from  vanity  or 
interest,  or  themselves  being  deceived  by  the  limited- 
ness  oftheir  views,  and  their  ignorance  of  natural  causes: 
but  where  is  the  accredited  case  of  God  having  come 
upon  earth,  to  give  the  lie  to  his  own  creations  1  There 
would  be  something  truly  wonderful  in  the  appearance 
of  a  ghost;  but  the  assertion  of  a  child  that  he  saw  one 
as  he  passed  through  the  church-yard,  is  universally  ad- 
mitted to  be  less  miraculous. 

Eut  even  supposing  that  a  man  should  raise  a  dead 
body  to  life  before  our  eyes,  and  on  this  fact  rests  his 
claim  to  being  considered  the  Son  of  God ; — the  Hu~ 
mane  Society  restores  drowned  persons,  and  because 
it  makes  no  mystery  of  the  method  it  employs,  its  mem- 
bers are  not  mistaken  for  the  Sons  of  God.  All  that  we 
have  a  right  to  infer  from  our  ignorance  of  the  cause 
of  any  event  is,  that  we  do  not  know  it ;  had  the  Mexi- 
cans attended  to  this  simple  rule  when  they  heard  the 
cannon  of  the  Spaniards,  they  would  not  have  consi- 
dered them  as  gods :  the  experiments  of  modern  chemis- 
try would  have  defied  the  wisest  philosophers  of  an- 
cient Greece  and  Rome  to  have  accounted  for  them  on 
natural  principles.  An  author  of  strong  common  sens* 
has  observed,  that  "  a  miracle  is  no  miracle  at  second- 
hand;" he  m'ght  have  added,  that  a  miracle  is  no  mi* 


NOTES.  151 

racle  in  any  case ;  for  until  we  are  acquainted  with  all 
natural  causes,  we  have  no  reason  to  imagine  others. 

There  remains  to  be  considered  another  proof  of 
Christianity — Prophecy.  A  book  is  written  before  a 
certain  event,  in  which  this  event  is  foretold ;  how 
could  the  prophet  have  foreknown  it  without  inspira- 
tion? how  could  he  have  been  inspired  without  God? 
The  greatest  stress  is  laid  on  the  prophecies  of  Moses 
and  Hosea  on  the  dispersion  of  the  Jews,  and  that  of 
Isaiah  concerning  the  coming  of  the  Messiah.  The 
prophecy  of  Moses  is  a  collection  of  every  possible 
cursing  and  blessing ;  and  it  is  so  far  from  being  mar- 
vellous that  the  one  of  dispersion  should  have  been  ful- 
filled, that  it  would  have  been  more  surprising  if,  out  of 
all  these,  none  should  have  taken  effect.  In  Deutero- 
nomy, chap,  xxviii.  ver.  64,  where  Moses  explicitly 
foretels  the  dispersion,  he  states  that  they  shall  there 
serve  gods  of  wood  and  stone:  "And  the  Lord  shall 
scatter  thee  among  all  people,  from  the  one  end  of  the 
earth  even  to  the  other,  and  there  thou  shall  serve  other 
gods,  which  neither  thou  nor  thy  fathers  have  known, 
even  gods  of  wood  and  stone."  The  Jews  are  at  this 
day  remarkably  tenacious  of  their  leligion.  Moses  al- 
so declares  that  they  shall  be  subjected  to  these  causes 
for  disobedience  to  his  ritual:  "  And  it  shall  come  to 
pass,  if  thou  wilt  not  hearken  unto  the  voice  of  the 
Lord  thy  God,  to  observe  to  do  all  the  commandments 

and  statutes  which  I  command  you  this  day,  that  all 
N  3 


152  NOTES. 

these  curses  shall  come  upon  thee  and  overtake  thee." 
Is  this  the  real  reason?  The  third,  fourth,  and  fifth 
chapters  of  Hosea  are  a  piece  of  immodest  confession. 
The  indelicate  type  might  apply  in  a  hundred  senses  to 
a  hundred  things.  The  fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah  is 
more  explicit,  yet  it  does  not  exceed  in  clearness  the 
oracles  of  Delphos.  The  historical  proof,  that  Moses, 
Isaiah,  and  Hosea  did  write  when  they  are  said  to  have 
written,  is  far  from  being  clear  and  circumstantial. 

But  prophecy  requires  proof  in  its  character  as  a  mi- 
racle ;  we  have  no  right  to  suppose  that  a  man  foreknew 
future  events  from  God,  until  it  is  demonstrated  that  he 
neither  could  know  them  by  his  own  exertions,  nor  that 
the  writings  which  contain  the  prediction  could  possibly 
have  been  fabricated  after  the  event  pretended  to  be 
foretold.  It  is  more  probable  that  writings,  pretending 
to  divine  inspiration,  should  have  been  fabricated  after 
the  fulfilment  of  their  pretended  prediction*  than  that 
they  should  have  really  been  divinely  inspired;  when 
we  consider  that  the  latter  supposition  makes  God  at 
once  the  creator  of  the  human  mind,  and  ignorant  of  its 
primary  powers,  particularly  as  we  have  numberless  in- 
stances of  false  religions,  and  forged  prophecies  of 
things  long  past,  and  no  accredited  case  of  God  having 
conversed  with  men  directly  or  indirectly.  It  is  also 
possible  that  the  description  of  an  event  might  have 
foregone  its  occurrence ;  but  this  is  far  from  being  a 
^gitimate  proof  of  a  divine  revelation,  as  many  men, 


NOTES.  153 

not  pretending  to  the  character  of  a  prophet,  have  ne- 
vertheless, in  this  sense,  prophecied. 

Lord  Chesterfield  was  never  yet  taken  for  a  prophet, 
even  by  a  bishop,  yet  he  uttered  this  remarkable  pre- 
diction :  "  The  despotic  government  of  France  is  screw- 
ed up  to  the  highest  pitch ;  a  revolution  is  fast  ap- 
proaching ;  that  revolution,  I  am  convinced,  will  be  ra- 
dical and  sanguinary."  This  appeared  in  the  letters  of 
the  prophet  long  before  the  accomplishment  of  this 
wonderful  prediction.  Now,  have  these  particulars 
come  to  pass,  or  have  they  not?  If  they  have,  how 
could  the  Earl  have  foreknown  them  without  inspira- 
tion ?  If  we  admit  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion 
on  testimony  such  as  this,  we  must  admit,  on  the  same 
strength  of  evidence,  that  God  has  affixed  the  highest 
rewards  to  belief,  and  the  eternal  tortures  of  the  never- 
dying  worm  to  disbelief;  both  of  which  have  been  de- 
monstrated to  be  involuntary. 

The  last  proof  of  the  Christian  religion  depends  on 
the  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Theologians  divide 
the  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  into  its  ordinary  and 
extraordinary  modes  of  operation.  The  latter  is  sup- 
posed to  be  that  which  inspired  the  Prophets  and  Apos- 
tles ;  and  the  former  to  be  the  grace  of  God,  which 
summarily  makes  known  the  truth  of  his  revelation,  to 
those  whose  mind  is  fitted  for  its  reception  by  a  sub- 
missive perusal  of  his  word.  Persons  convinced  in  this 
manner,  can  do  any  thing  but  account  for  their  convic- 


151.  NOTES. 

tion,  describe  the  time  at  which  it  happened,  or  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  came  upon  them.  It  is  supposed  to  enter 
the  mind  by  other  channels  than  those  of  the  senses, 
and  therefore  professes  to  be  superior  to  reason  found- 
ed on  their  experience. 

Admitting,  however,  the  usefulness  or  possibility  of 
a  divine  revelation,  unless  we  demolish  the  foundations 
of  all  human  knowledge,  it  is  requisite  that  our  reason 
should  previously  demonstrate  its  genuineness  ;  for,  be- 
fore we  extinguish  the  steady  ray  of  reason  and  com- 
mon sense,  it  is  fit  that  we  should  discover  whether  we 
cannot  do  without  their  assistance,  whether  or  no 
there  be  any  other  which  may  suffice  to  guide  us 
through  the  labyrinth  of  life:*  for,  if  a  man  is  to  be 
inspired  upon  all  occasions,  if  he  is  to  be  sure  of  a 
thing  because  he  is  sure,  if  the  ordinary  operations  of 
the  spirit  are  not  to  be  considered  very  extraordinary 
modes  of  demonstration,  if  enthusiasm  is  to  usurp  the 
place  of  proof,  and  madness  that  of  sanity,  all  reasoning 
is  superfluous.  The  Mahometan  dies  fighting  for  his 
prophet,  the  Indian  immolates  himself  at  the  chariot 
wheels  of  Brahma,  the  Hottentot  worships  an  insect, 
the  Negro  a  bunch  of  feathers,  the  Mexican  sacrifices 
human  victims !  Their  degree  of  conviction  must  .cer- 
tainly be  very  strong :  it  cannot  arise  from  conviction, 
it  must  from  feelings,  the  reward  of  their  prayers.     If 

*  See  Locke's  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding, 
book  iv.  chap.  xix.  on  Enthusiasm. 


NOTES.  J  53 

each  of  these  should  affirm,  in  opposition  to  the  strong- 
est possible  arguments,  that  inspiration  carried  internal 
evidence,  I  fear  their  inspired  brethren,  the  orthodox 
Missionaries,  would  be  so  uncharitable  as  to  pronounce 
them  obstinate. 

Miracles  cannot  be  received  as  testimonies  of  a  dis 
puted  fact,  because  all  human  testimony  has  ever  been 
insufficient  to  establish  the  possibility  of  miracles. 
That  which  is  incapable  of  proof  itself,  is  no  proof  of 
any  thing  else.  Prophecy  has  also  been  rejected  by  the 
test  of  reason.  Those,  then,  who  have  been  actually 
inspired,  are  the  only  true  believers  in  the  Christian 

religion. 

Mox  numine  viso 
Virginei  tumuere  sinus,  innuptaque  mater 
Arcano  stupuit  compleri  viscera  partu 
Auctorem  parituva  suum.     Mortalia  corda 
Artificem  texere  poli,  latuitque  sub  uno 
Fectore,  qui  totumlate  complectitur  orbem. 

Claudian,  Carmen  Paschale* 

Does  not  so  monstrous  and  disgusting  an  absurdity 
carry  its  own  infamy  and  refutation  with  itself  ? 

*  The  Deity  revealed — with  mystic  charge, 
The  Virgin  felt  her  teeming  womb  enlarge — 
Ker  Maker's  future  mother,  ne'er  consigned 
To  human  arms. — Deep  wonder  fill'd  her  mind, 
As  in  her  breast  the  ripening  burden  lay, 
An  embrio  god-head  springing  into  day. 
Heaven's  architect  one  bosom  did  enfold, 
And  he,  whom  earth,  nor  seas,  nor  skies  can  hold, 
Hid  his  vast  essence  in  a  human  mould. 


im  notes. 

VIII.  Page  78. 
Him,  (still  from  hope  to  hope  the  bliss  pursuing, 
Which,  from  the  exhaistless  lore  of  human  weal 
Dawns  on  the  virtuous  mind)  the  thoughts  that  rise 
In  time-destroying  infiniteness.  gift 
With  self-enshrined  eternity,  &;c. 
Time  is  our  consciousness  of  the  succession  of  ideas 
in  our  mind.     Vivid  sensation,  of  either  pain  or  plea- 
sure, makes  the  time  seem  long,  as  the  common  phrase 
is,  because  it  renders  us  more  acutely  conscious  of  our 
ideas.     If  a  mind  be   conscious  of  an  hundred  ideas 
during  one  minute,  by  the  clock,  and  of  two  hundred 
during  another,  the  latter  of  these  spaces  would  actu- 
ally occupy  so  much  greater  extent  in  the  mind  as  two 
exceed  one  in  quantity.     If,  therefore,  the  human  mind, 
by  any  future  improvement  of  its  sensibility,  should 
become  conscious  of  an  infinite  number  of  ideas  in  a 
minute,  that  minute  would  be  eternity.     I  do  not  hence 
infer  that  the  actual  space  between  the  birth  and  death 
of  a  man   will  ever   be  prolonged ;  but  that  his  sensi- 
bility is  perfectible,   and  that   the    number   of  ideas 
which  his  mind  is  capable  of  receiving  is  indefinite. — 
One  man  is  stretched  on  the  rack  during  twelve  hours  ; 
another  sleeps  soundly  in  his  bed  ;  the  difference  of  time 
perceived  by  these  two  persons  is  immense  :  one  hardly 
will  believe  that  half  an  hour  has  elapsed ,  the  other 
could  credit  that  centuries  had  flown  during  his  agony* 


NOTES.  157 

Thus,  the  life  of  a  man  of  virtue  and  talent,  who  should 
die  in  his  thirtieth  year,  is,  with  regard  to  his  own 
feelings,  longer  than  that  of  a  miserable  priest-ridden 
slave,  who  dreams  out  a  century  of  dulness.  The  one 
has  perpetually  cultivated  his  mental  faculties,  has  ren- 
dered himself  master  of  his  thoughts,  can  abstract  and 
generalize  amid  the  lethargy  of  every-day  business; 
the  other  can  slumber  over  the  brightest  moments  of 
his  being,  and  is  unable  to  remember  the  happiest  hour 
of  his  life.  Perhaps  the  perishing  ephemeron  enjoys 
a  longer  life  than  the  tortoise. 

Dark  flood  of  time  ! 
Roll  as  it  listeth  thee — I  measure  not 
By  months  or  moments  thy  ambiguous  course. 
Another  may  stand  by  me  on  the  brink 
And  watch  the  bubble  whirled  beyond  his  ken 
That  pauses  at  my  feet.     The  sense  of  love, 
The  thirst  for  action,  and  the  impassioned  thought, 
Prolong  m^  being:  if  I  wake  no  more, 
My  life  more  actual  living  will  contain 
Than  some  grey  veterans  of  the  world's  cold  school, 
Whose  listless  hours  unprofitably  roll, 
By  one  enthusiast  feeling  unredeemed. 

See  Godwin's  Pol.  Jus.  vol.  i.  page  41 1 ;  and  Con- 
dorcet,  Esquisse  d'un  Tableau  Historique  des 
Progress  de  V Esprit  Humain,  Epoque  ix. 


15S  NOTES. 

VIII.  Page  78. 

No  longer  now 
He  slays  the  lamb  that  looks  him,  in  the  face. 
I  hold  that  the  depravity  of  the  physical  and  moral 
nature  of  man  originated  in  his  unnatural  habits  of  life. 
The  origin  of  man,  like  that  of  the  universe  of  which 
he  is  a  part,  is  enveloped  in  impenetrable  mystery.— 
His  generations  either  had  a  beginning,  or  they  had  not. 
The  weight  of  evidence  in  favour  of  each  of  these 
suppositions  seems  tolerably  equal ;  and  it  is  perfectly 
unimportant  to  the  present  argument  which  is  assumed. 
The  language  spoken,  however,  by  the  mythology  of 
nearly  all  religions  seems  to  prove,  that  at  some  distant 
period  man  forsook  the  path  of  nature,  and  sacrificed 
the  purity  and  happiness  of  his  being  to  unnatural 
appetites.  The  date  of  this  event  seems  to  have  also 
been  that  of  some  great  change  in  the  climates  of  the 
earth,  with  which  it  has  an  obvious  correspondence. — 
The  allegory  of  Adam  and  Eve  eating  of  the  tree  of 
evil,  and  entailing  upon  their  posterity  the  wrath  of 
God,  and  the  loss  of  everlasting  life,  admits  of  no  other 
explanation  than  the  disease  and  crime  that  have  flowed 
from  unnatural  diet.  Milton  was  so  well  awarefof  this, 
that  he  makes  Raphael  thus  exhibit  to  Adam  the  con- 
sequence of  his  disobedience. 


-Immediately  a  place 


Before  his  eyes  appeared  :  sad,  noisome,  dark: 


NOTES.  I5P 

A  lazar-house  it  seem'd ;  wherein  were  laid 
Numbers  of  all  diseased  :  all  maladies 
Of  ghastly  spasm,  or  racking  torture,  qualms 
Of  heart-sick  agony,  all  feverous  kinds, 
Convulsions,  epilepsies,  fierce  catarrhs, 
Intestine  stone  and  ulcer,  cholic  pangs, 
Daemoniac  frenzy,  moping  melancholy, 
And  moon-struck  madness,  pining  atrophy, 
Marasmus,  and  wide-wasting  pestilence, 
Dropsies,  and  asthmas,  and  joint-racking  rheums. 

And  how  many  thousands  more  might  not  be  added 
to  this  frightful  catalogue ! 

The  story  of  Prometheus  is  one  likewise  which,  al- 
though universally  admitted  to  be  allegorical,  has  never 
been  satisfactorily  explained.  Prometheus  stole  fire 
from  heaven,  and  was  chained  for  this  crime  to  Mount 
Caucasus,  where  a  vulture  continually  devoured  his 
liver,  that  grew  to  meet  its  hunger,  Hesiod  says,  that, 
before  the  time  of  Prometheus,  markind  were  exempt 
from  suffering;  that  they  enjoyed  a  vigorous  youth, 
and  that  death,  when  at  length  it  came,  approached  like 
sleep,  and  gently  closed  their  eyes.  Again,  so  general 
was  this  opinion,  that  Horace,  a  poet  of  the  Augustan 
asfe,  writes — 


Audax  omnia  perpeti, 

Genshumana  ruit  per  vetitum  nefas 
O 


160  NOTES. 

Audax  Iapeti  genus 
Ignem  fraude  mala  gentibus  intulit ! 

Post  ignem  setheria  dorno 
Subductum,  raacies  et  nova  febrium 

Terris  incubuit  cohors, 
Semotique  pvius  tarda  necessitas 

Lethi  corripuit  gradura.* 

How  plain  a  language  is  spoken  by  all  this.  Prome- 
theus (who  represents  the  human  race)  effected  some 
great  change  in  the  condition  of  his  nature,  and  applied 
fire  to  culinary  purposes;  thus  inventing  an  expedient 
for  screening  from  his  disgust  the  horrors  of  the  sham- 
bles. From  this  moment  his  vitals  were  devoured  by 
the  vulture  of  disease.  It  consumed  his  being  in  every 
shape  of  its  loathsome  and  infinite  variety,  inducing  the 
soul-quelling  sinkings  of  premature  and  violent  death. 
All  vice  arose  from  the  ruin  of  healthful  innocence. 
Tyranny,  superstition,  commerce,  and  inequality,  were 
then  first  known,  when    reason    vainly  attempted    to 


Thus  from  the  sun's  etherial  beam 
When  bold  Prometheus  stole  th'  enlivening  flame, 

Of  fevers  dire  a  ghastly  brood, 
Till  then  unknown,  the  unhappy  fraud  pursu'd ; 

On  earth  their  horrors  baleful  spread, 
And  the  pale  monarch  of  the  dead, 

Till  then  slow-moving  to  his  prey, 
Precipitately  rapid  swept  his  way. 

Francis's  Horace,  Book  i.  Ode  3. 


NOTES.  161 

guide  the  wanderings  of  exacerbated  passion.  I  con- 
clude this  part  of  the  subject  with  an  extract  from  Mr. 
Newton's  Defence  of  Vegetable  Regimen,  from  whom 
I  have  borrowed  this  interpretation  of  the  fable  of 
Prometheus. 

"  Making  allowance  for  such  transposition  of  the 
events  of  the  allegory  as  time  might  produce,  after  the 
important  truths  were  forgotten,  which  this  portion  of 
the  ancient  mythology  was  intended  to  transmit,  the 
drift  of  the  fable  seems  to  be  this : — Man  at  his  creation 
was  endowed  with  the  gift  of  perpetual  youth;  that  isT 
he  was  not  formed  to  be  a  sickly  suffering  creature  as 
we  now  see  him,  bat  to  enjoy  health,  and  to  sink  by 
slow  degrees  into  the  bosom  of  his  parent  earth  with- 
out disease  or  pain.  Prometheus  first  taught  the  use 
of  animal  food,  (primus  bovem  occidit  Prometheus*) 
and  of  fire,  with  which  to  render  it  more  digestible  and 
pleasing  to  the  taste.  Jupiter,  and  the  rest  of  the  gods, 
foreseeing  the  consequences  of  these  inventions,  were 
amused  or  irritated  at  the  short-sighted  devices  of  the 
newly-formed  creature,  and  left  him  to  experience  the 
sad  effects  of  them.  Thirst,  the  necessary  concomitant 
of  a  flesh  diet,  (perhaps  of  all  diet  vitiated  by  culi- 
nary preparation)  ensued;  water  was  resorted  to,  and 
man  forfeited  the  inestimable  gift  of  health  which  he 


*  Prometheus  first  killed  an  ox.    Plin.  Nat.  Hist.  lib. 
vii.  sect  57. 

0  2 


162  NOTES. 

had  received  from  heaven ;  he  became  diseased,  the 
partaker  of  a  precarious  existence,  and  no  longer  de- 
scended slowly  to  his  grave."* 

But  just  disease  to  luxury  succeeds, 
And  every  death  its  own  avenger  breeds ; 
The  fury  passions  from  that  blood  began, 
And  turned  on  man  a  fiercer  savage — man. 

Man,  and  the  animals  whom  he  has  infected  with  his 
society,  or  depraved  by  his  dominion,  are  alone  dis- 
eased. The  wild  hog,  the  mouflon,  the  bison,  and  the 
wolf,  are  perfectly  exempt  from  malady,  and  invariably 
die,  either  from  external  violence,  or  natural  old  age. 
But  the  domestic  hog,  the  sheep,  the  cow,  and  the  dog, 
are  subject  to  an  incredible  variety  of  distempers  ;  and, 
like  the  corrupters  of  their  nature,  have  physicians  who 
thrive  upon  their  miseries.  The  supereminence  of  man 
is  like  Satan's,  a  supereminence  of  pain,  and  the  ma- 
jority of  his  species,  doomed  to  penury,  disease,  and 
crime,  have  reason  to  curse  the  untoward  event,  that 
by  enabling  him  to  communicate  his  sensations,  raised 
him  above  the  level  of  his  fellow  animals.  But  the 
steps  that  have  been  taken  are  irrevocable.  The  whole 
of  human  science  is  comprised  in  one  question: — How 
can  the  advantages  of  intellect  and  civilization  be  re- 

*  Return  to  Nature.     Cadell,  1811. 


NOTES.  1G3 

conciled  with  the  liberty  and  pure  pleasures  of  a  natural 
life  1  How  can  we  take  the  benefits,  and  reject  the  evils 
of  the  system,  which  is  now  interwoven  with  all  the 
fibres  of  our  being?  I  believe  that  abstinence  from 
animal  food  and  spirituous  liquors  would  in  a  great 
measure  capacitate  us  for  the  solution  of  this  important 
question. 

It  is  true,  that  mental  and  bodily  derangement  is  at- 
tributable in  part  to  other  deviations  from  rectitude  and 
nature  than  those  which  concern  diet.  The  mistakes 
cherished  by  society  respecting  the  connection  of  the 
sexes,  whence  the  misery  and  diseases  of  unsatisfied 
celibacy,  unenjoying  prostitution,  and  the  premature 
arrival  of  puberty  necessarily  spring;  the  putrid  atmo- 
sphere of  crowded  cities  ;  the  exhalations  of  chemical 
processes ;  the  muffling  of  our  bodies  in  superfluous 
apparel ;  the  absurd  treatment  of  infants  : — all  these, 
and  innumerable  other  causes,  contribute  their  mite  to 
the  mass  of  human  evil. 

Comparative  anatomy  teaches  us  that  man  resembles 
frugivorous  animals  in  every  thing,  and  carnivorous  in 
nothing ;  he  has  neither  claws  wherewith  to  seize  his 
prey,  nor  distinct  and  pointed  teeth  to  tear  the  living 
fibre.  A  Mandarin  of  the  first  class,  with  nails  two 
inches  long,  would  probably  find  them,  alone,  ineffi- 
cient to  hold  even  a  hare.  After  every  subterfuge  of 
gluttony,  the  bull  must  be  degraded  into  the  ox,  and 

Hie  ram  into  the  wether,  by  an  unnatural  and  inhuman 
O  3 


164  NOTES. 

operation,  that  the  flaccid  fibre  may  offer  a  fainter 
resistance  to  rebellious  nature.  It  is  only  by  softening 
and  disguising  dead  flesh  by  culinary  preparation,  that 
it  is  rendered  susceptible  of  mastication  or  digestion ; 
and  that  the  sight  of  its  bloody  juices  and  raw  horror 
does  not  excite  intolerable  loathing  and  disgust.  Let 
the  advocate  of  animal  food  force  himself  to  a  decisive 
experiment  on  its  fitness,  and,  as  Plutarch  recommends, 
tear  a  living  lamb  with  his  teeth,  and  plunging  his 
head  into  its  vitals,  slake  his  thirst  with  the  steaming 
blood ;  when  fresh  from  the  deed  of  horror,  let  him 
revert  to  the  irresisiible  instincts  of  nature  that  would 
rise  in  judgment  against  it,  and  say,  Nature  formed  me 
for  such  work  as  this.  Then,  and  then  only,  would  he 
be  consistent. 

Man  resembles  no  carnivorous  animal.  There  is  no 
exception,  unless  man  be  one,  to  the  rule  of  herbivo- 
rous animals  having  cellulated  colons. 

The  orang-outang  perfectly  resembles  man  both  in 
the  order  and  number  of  his  teeth.  The  orang-outang 
is  the  most  anthropomorphous  of  the  ape  tribe,  all  of 
which  are  strictly  frugivorous.  There  is  no  other 
species  of  animals,  which  live  on  different  food,  in 
which  this  analogy  exists.  *  In  many  frugivorous 
animals,  the  canine  teeth  are  more  pointed  and  distinct 


*  Cuvier,  Lemons  d'Artat.  Comp.  torn.  iii.  pages  160, 
373,  448,  465,. 480.    Rees's  Cyclopoedia,  article  Man. 


NOTES.  165 

than  those  of  man.  The  resemblance  also  of  the  hu- 
man stomach  to  that  of  the  orang-outang,  is  greater 
than  to  that  of  any  other  animal. 

The  intestines  are  also  identical  with  those  of  herbi- 
vorous animals,  which  present  a  larger  surface  for 
absorption,  and  have  ample  and  cellulated  colons. — 
The  coecum  also,  though  short,  is  larger  than  that  of 
carnivorous  animals  ;  and  even  here  the  orang-outang 
retains  its  accustomed  similarity. 

The  structure  of  the  human  frame,  then,  is  that  of 
one  fitted  to  a  pure  vegetable  diet,  in  every  essential 
particular.  It  is  true,  that  the  reluctance  to  abstain 
from  animal  food,  in  those  who  have  been  long  accus- 
tomed to  its  stimulus,  is  so  great  in  some  persons  of 
weak  minds,  as  to  be  scarcely  overcome ;  but  this  is 
far  from  bringing  any  argument  in  its  favour.  A 
lamb,  which  was  fed  for  some  time  on  flesh  by  a  ship's 
crew,  refused  its  natural  diet  at  the  end  of  the  voyage. 
There  are  numerous  instances  of  horses,  sheep,  oxen, 
and  even  wood-pigeons,  having  been  taught  to  live  upon 
flesh,  until  they  have  loathed  their  natural  aliment. — 
Young  children  evidently  prefer  pastry,  oranges,  ap- 
ples, and  other  fruit,  to  the  flesh  of  animals,  until,  by 
the  gradual  depravation  of  the  digestive  organs,  the 
free  use  of  vegetable  has,  fur  a  time,  produced  serious 
inconveniences ;  for  a  tivie,  I  say,  since  there  never 
was  an  instance  wherein  a  change  from  spirituous  li- 
quors and  animal  food  to  vegetables  and  pure  water, 
has  failed  ultimately  to  invigorate  the  body,  by  ren- 


166  NOTES. 

dering  its  juices  bland  and  consentaneous,  and  to  re- 
store to  the  mind  that  cheerfulness  and  elasticity,  which 
not  one  in  fifty  possesses  on  the  present  system.  A 
love  of  strong  liquors  is  also  with  difficulty  taught  to 
infants.  Almost  every  one  remembers  the  wry  faces 
which  the  first  glass  of  port  produced.  Unsophisti- 
cated instinct  is  invariably  unerring  ;  but  to  decide  on 
the  fitness  of  animal  food,  from  the  perverted  appetites 
which  its  constrained  adoption  produces,  is  to  make 
the  criminal  a  judge  in  his  own  cause;  it  is  even 
worse,  it  is  appealing  to  the  infatuated  drunkard  in  a 
question  of  the  salubrity  of  brandy. 

What  is  the  cause  of  morbid  action  in  the  animal 
system?  Not  the  air  we  breath,  for  our  fellow  deni- 
zens of  nature  breathe  the  same  uninjured:  not  the 
water  we  drink,  (if  remote  from  the  pollutions  of  man 
and  his  inventions*)  for  the  animals  drink  it  too ;  not 
the  earth  we  tread  upon  ;  not  the  unobscured  sight  of 
glorious  nature,  in  the  wood,  the  field,  or  the  expanse 
of  sky  and  ocean ;  nothing  that  we  are  or  do  in  com- 
mon with  the  undeceased  inhabitants  of  the  forest. 
Something  then  wherein  we  differ  from  them:  our 
habit  of  altering  our  food  by  fire,  so  that  our  appetite 

*  The  necessity  of  resorting  to  some  means  of  puri- 
fying water,  and  the  disease  which  arises  from  its  adul- 
teration in  civilized  countries,  is  sufficiently  apparent. — 
See  Dr.  La  tribe's  Reports  on  Cancer.  I  do  not  assert 
that  the  use  of  water  is  in  itself  unnatural,  but  that  the 
unperverted  palate  would  swallow  no  liquid  capable 
Qf  occasioning  disease. 


NOTES.  167 

is  no  longer  a  just  criterion  for  the  fitness  of  its  grati- 
fication. Except  in  children  there  remain  no  traces 
of  that  instinct  which  determines,  in  all  other  animals, 
what  aliment  is  natural  or  otherwise ;  and  so  perfectly 
obliterated  are  they  in  the  reasoning-  adults  of  our 
species,  that  it  has  become  necessary  to  urge  considera- 
tions drawn  from  comparative  anatomy,  to  prove  that 
we  are  naturally  frugivorous. 

Crime  is  madness.  Madness  is  disease.  Whenever 
the  cause  of  disease  shall  be  discovered,  the  root,  from 
which  all  vice  and  misery  have  so  long  overshadowed 
the  globe,  will  lie  bare  to  the  axe.  All  the  exertions 
of  man,  from  that  moment,  may  be  considered  as 
tending  to  the  clear  profit  of  his  species.  No  sane 
mind  in  a  sane  body  resolves  upon  a  real  crime.  It 
is  a  man  of  violent  passions,  blood-shot  eyes,  and 
swollen  veins,  that  alone  can  grasp  the  knife  of  mur- 
der. The  system  of  a  simple  diet  promises  no  Uto- 
pian advantages.  It  is  no  mere  reform  of  legislation, 
whilst  the  furious  passions  and  evil  propensities  of  1he 
human  heart,  in  whichithad  its  origin,  are  still  unassua- 
ged.  It  strikes  at  the  root  of  all  evil,  and  is  an  experi- 
ment which  may  be  tried  with  success,  not  alone  by  na- 
tions, but  by  small  socieiies,  families,  and  even  indivi- 
duals. In  no  cases  has  a  return  to  vegetable  diet  pro- 
duced the  slightest  injury  ;  in  most  it  has  been  attended 
with  changes  undeniably  beneficial.  Should  ever  a 
physician  be  born  with  the  genius  of  Locke,  I  am  per- 


im  NOTES. 

snaded  that  he  might  trace  all  hodily  and  mental  derange 
ments  to  our  unnatural  habits,  as  clearly  as  that  philo- 
sopher has  traced  all  knowledge  to  sensation.  What 
prolific  sources  of  disease  are  not  those  mineral  and  ve- 
getable poisons  that  have  been  introduced  for  its  ex- 
tirpation! How  many  thousauds  have  become  murder- 
ers and  robbers,  bigots,  and  domestic  tyrants,  dissolute 
and  abandoned  adventurers,  from  the  use  of  fermented 
liquors  ;  who  had  they  slaked  their  thirst  only  with  pure 
water,  would  have  lived  but  to  diffuse  the  happiness  of 
their  own  unperverted  feelings.  How  many  ground- 
less opinions  and  absurd  institutions  have  not  received  a 
general  sanction  from  the  sottishness  and  intemperance 
of  individuals!  Who  will  assert  that,  had  the  populace 
of  Paris  satisfied  their  hunger  at  the  ever-furnished  table 
of  vegetable  nature,  they  would  have  lent  their  brutal 
suffrage  to  the  proscription-list  of  Robespierre  ?  Could 
a  set  of  men,  whose  passions  were  not  perverted  by 
unnatural  stimuli,  look  with  coolness  on  an  auto  da 
fe  ?  Is  it  to  be  believed  that  a  being  of  gentle  feelings, 
rising  from  his  meal  of  roots,  would  take  delight  in 
sports  of  blood?  Was  Nero  a  man  of  temperate  life? 
Could  you  read  calm  health  in  his  cheek,  flushed  with 
ungovernable  propensities  of  hatred  for  the  human 
race?  Did  Muley  Ismael's  pulse  beat  evenly,  was 
his  skin  ti'ansparent,  did  his  eyes,  beam  with  healthful- 
ness,  and  its  invai'iable  concomitants,  cheerfulness  and 
benignity  ?  Though  history  has  decided  none  of  these 
questions,  a  child  could  not  hesitate  to  answer  in  the 


notes.  im 

negative.  Surely  the  bile-suffused  cheek  of  Buona- 
parte, his  wrinkled  brow,  and  yellow  eye,  the  cease- 
less inquietude  of  his  nervous  system,  speak  no  less 
plainly  the  character  of  his  unresting  ambition  than  his 
murders  and  his  victories.  It  is  impossible  had  Buo- 
naparte descended  from  a  race  of  vegetable  feeders, 
that  he  could  have  had  either  the  inclination  or  the 
power  to  ascend  the  throne  of  the  Bourbons.  The 
desire  of  tyranny  could  scarcely  be  excited  in  the  indi- 
vidual, the  power  to  tyrannize  would  certainly  not  be 
delegated  by  a  society  neither  frenzied  by  inebriation, 
nor  rendered  impotent  and  irrational  by  disease. 
Pregnant  indeed  with  inexhaustible  calamity  is  the 
renunciation  of  inslinet,  as  it  concerns  our  physical 
nature ;  arithmetic  cannot  enumerate,  nor  reason  per- 
haps suspect,  the  multitudinous  sources  of  disease  in 
civilized  life.  Even  common  water,  that  apparently 
innoxious  pabulum,  when  corrupted  by  the  filth  of 
populous  cities-,  is  a  deadly  and  insidious  destroyer.* 
Who  can  wonder  that  all  the  inducements  held  out  by 
God  himself  in  the  Bible  to  virtue,  should  have  been 
vainer  than  a  nurse's  tale;  and  that  those  dogmas,  by 
which  he  has  there  excited  and  justified  the  most  feroci- 
ous propensities,  should  have  alone  been  deemed  es- 
sential ;  whilst  Christians  are  in  the  daily  practice 
of  ail  those  habits  which  have  infected  with  disease 
and  crime,   not  only   the  reprobate  sons^  but  these  fa- 

*  Lambe's  Reports  on  Cancer. 


170  NOTES. 

voured  children  of  the  common  Father's  love.  Omni- 
potence itself  could  not  save  them  from  the  consequences 
of  this  original  and  universal  sin. 

There  is  no  disease,  bodily  or  mental,  which  adop- 
tion of  vegetable  diet  and  pure  water  has  not  infallibly 
mitigated  wherever  the  experiment  has  been  fairly 
tried.  Debility  is  gradually  converted  into  strength, 
disease  into  healthfulness;  madness,  in  all  its  hideoas 
variety,  from  the  ravings  of  the  fettered  maniac,  to  the 
unaccountable  irrationalities  of  ill  temper,  that  make 
a  hell  of  domestic  life,  into  a  calm  and  considerate 
evenness  of  temper,  that  alone  might  offer  a  certain 
pledge  of  the  future  moral  reformation  of  society.  On 
a  natural  system  of  diet,  old  age  would  be  our  last 
and  our  only  malady  ;  the  term  of  our  existence  would 
be  protracted  ;  we  should  enjoy  life,  and  no  longer 
preclude  others  from  the  enjoyment  of  it ;  all  sensa- 
tional delights  would  be  infinitely  more  exquisite  and 
perfect  ;  the  very  sense  of  being  would  then  be  a  con- 
tinued  pleasure,  such  as  we  now  feel  it  in  some  few 
and  favoured  moments  of  our  youth.  By  all  that  is 
sacred  in  our  hopes  for  the  human  race,  I  conjure 
those  who  love  happiness  and  truth,  to  give  a  fair  trial 
to  the  vegetable  system.  Reasoning  is  surely  super- 
fluous on  a  subject  whose  merits  and  experience  of  six 
months  would  set  for  ever  at  rest.  But  it  is  only 
among  the  enlightened  and  benevolent  that  so  great  a 
sacrifice  of  appetite    and    prejudice  can  be  expected, 


NOTES.  17! 

even  though  its  ultimate  excellence  should  not  admit 
of  dispute.  It  is  found  easier,  by  the  short-sighted 
victims  of  disease,  to  palliate  their  torments  by  medi- 
cine, than  to  prevent  them  by  regimen.  The  vulgar 
of  all  ranks  are  invariably  sensual  and  indocile  ;  yet 
I  cannot  but  feel  myself  persuaded,  that  when  the  be- 
nefits of  vegetable  diet  are  mathematically  proved  ; 
■when  it  is  as  clear,  that  those  who  live  naturally  are 
exempt  from  premature  death,  as  that  nine  is  not  one, 
the  most  sottish  of  mankind  will  feel  a  preference  to- 
wards a  long  and  tranquil,  contrasted  with  a  short  and 
painful  life.  On  the  average,  out  of  sixty  persons, 
four  die  in  three  years.  Hopes  are  entertained  that  in 
April  1814,  a  statement  will  be  given  that  sixty  per- 
sons, all  having  lived  more  than  three  years  on  vege- 
tables and  pure  water,  are  then  in  perfect  health. 
More  than  two  years  have  now  elapsed  ;  not  one  of 
them  has  died  ;  no  such  example  will  be  found  in  any 
sixty  persons  taken  at  random.  Seventeen  persons  of 
all  ages  (the  families  of  Dr.  Lamte  and  Mr.  Newton) 
have  lived  for  seven  years  on  this  diet  without  a  death, 
aud  almost  without  the  slightest  illness.  Surely,  when 
we  consider  that  some  of  these  were  infants,  and  one 
a  martyr  to  asthma  now  nearly  subdued,  we  may 
challenge  any  seventeen  persons  taken  at  random  in 
this  city  to  exhibit  a  parallel  case.  Those  who  may 
have  been  excited  to   question  the  rectitude  of  estab- 

P 


m  NOTES. 

lished  habits  of  diet,   by  these  loose  remarks,  should 
consult  Mr.,  Newton's  luminous  and  eloquent  essay.* 

When  these  proofs  come  fairly  before  the  world,  and 
are  clearly  seen  by  all  who  understand  arithmetic,  it 
is  scarcely  possible  that  abstinence  from  aliments  de- 
monstrably pernicious  should  not  become  universal. 
In  proportion  to  the  number  of  proselytes,  so  will  be 
the  weight  of  evidence ;  and  when  a  thousand  persons 
can  be  produced,  living-  on  vegetables  and  distilled 
water,  who  have  to  dread  no  disease  but  old  age,  the 
world  will  be  compelled  to  regard  animal  flesh  and 
fermented  liquors  as  slow  but  certain  poisons.  The 
change  which  would  be  produced  by  simpler  habits 
on  political  economy,  is  sufficiently  remarkable.  The 
monopolizing  eater  of  animal  flesh  would  no  longer 
destroy  his  constitution  by  devouring  an  acre  at  a 
meal,  and  many  loaves  of  bread  would  cease  to  con- 
tribute to  gout,  madness,  and  apoplexy,  in  the  shape 
of  a  pint  of  porter,  or  a  dram  of  gin,  when  appeasing 
the  long-pro Iracted  famine  of  the  hard  working  pea- 
sant's hungry  babes.  The  quantity  of  nutritious  vege- 
table matter,  consumed  in  fattening  the  carcase  of  an 
ox,  would  afford  ten  times  the  sustenance,  undepravittg 
indeed,  and  incapable  of  generating  digease,  if  gather- 
ed immediately  from    the  bosom  of  the  earth.     The 

*  Return  to  Nature,  or  Defence  of  Vegetable  Regi- 
men.    Cadell,  1811. 


NOTES.  173 

most  fertile  districts  of  the   habitable  globe  are  now 
actually  cultivated  by  men  for  animals,  at  a  delay  and 
waste  of  aliment  absolutely  incapable  of  calculation. 
It  is  only  the  wealthy  that  can,   to  any  great  degree, 
even  now,   indulge  the    unnatural  craving    for  dead 
flesh,  and  they  pay  for  the  greater  licence  of  the  privi- 
lege, by  subjection  to  supernumerary  diseases.     Again, 
the  spirit  of  the  nation  that  should  take  the  lead  in  this 
great  reform,  would  insensibly  become  agricultural  ; 
commerce,  with  all  its  vice,  selfishness,  and  corrup- 
tion,  would  gradually   decline  ;    more   natural   habits 
would   produce    gentler   manners,    and    the  excessive 
complication    of  political  relations  would  be  so    far 
simplified,  that  every  individual  might  feel  and  under- 
stand why  he  loved  his  country,  and  took  a  personal 
interest  in  its   welfare.    How  would  England,  for  ex- 
ample, depend  on  the  caprices  of  foreign  rulers,  if  she 
contained  within  herself  all  the  necessaries,  and  des- 
pised whatever  they  possessed  of  the  luxuries  of  life  ? 
How  could  they  starve  her  into  compliance  with  their 
views  ?    Of  what  consequence   would  it  be  that  they 
refused  to  take  her  woollen  manufactures,  when  large 
and  fertile  tracts  of  the  island  ceased  to  be  allotted  to 
the  waste  of  pasturage?     On  a  natural  system  of  diet, 
we   should  require   no    spices    from  India;    no  wines 
from  Portugal,  Spain,  France,    or   Madeira  ;    none  of 
those  multitudinous  articles  of  luxury,  for  which  every 

corner  of  the  globe  is  rifled,  and  which  are  the  causes 
P2 


174  NOTES. 

of  so  much  individual  rivalship,  such  calamitous  and 
sanguinary  national  disputes.  In  the  history  of  mo- 
dern times,  the  avarice  of  commercial  monopoly,  no 
less  than  the  ambition  of  weak  and  wicked  chiefs, 
seems  to  have  fomented  the  universal  discord,  to  have 
added  stubbornness  to  the  mistakes  of  cabinets,  and 
indocility  to  the  infatuation  of  the  people.  Let  it  ever 
be  remembered,  that  it  is  the  direct  influence  of  com- 
merce to  make  the  interval  between  the  richest  and 
the  poorest  man,  wider  and  more  unconquerable.  Let 
it  be  remembered,  that  it  is  a  foe  to  every  thing  of  real 
worth  and  excellence  in  the  human  character.  The 
odious  and  disgusting  aristocracy  of  wealth,  is  built 
upon  the  ruins  of  all  that  is  good  in  chivalry  or  repub- 
licanism j  and  luxury  is  the  forerunner  of  a  barbarism 
scarce  capable  of  cure.  Is  it  impossible  to  realize  a 
state  of  soeiety,  where  all  the  energies  of  man  shall  be 
directed  to  the  production  of  his  solid  happiness? 
Certainly,  if  this  advantage  (the  object  of  all  political 
speculation)  be  in  any  degree  attainable,  it  is  attain- 
able only  by  a  community,  which  holds  out  no  facti- 
tious incentives  to  the  avarice  and  ambition  of  the  few, 
and  which  is  internally  organized  for  the  liberty, 
security  and  comfort  of  the  many.  None  must  be 
entrusted  with  power  (and  money  is  the  completes! 
species  of  power)  who  do  not  stand  pledged  to  use  it 
exclusively  for  the  general  benefit.  But  the  use  of 
animal  flesh  and   fermented   liquors,  directly  militates 


NOTES.  175 

with  this  equality  of  the  rights  of  man.  The  peasant 
cannot  gratify  these  fashionable  cravings  without  leav- 
ing his  family  to  starve.  Without  disease  and  war, 
those  sweeping  curtailers  of  population,  pasturage 
would  include  a  waste  too  great  to  be  afforded.  The 
labour  requisite  to  support  a  family  is  far  lighter*  than 
is  usually  supposed.  The  peasantry  work,  not  only 
for  themselves,  but  for  the  aristocracy,  the  army,  and 
the  manufacturers. 

The  advantage  of  a  reform  in  diet  is  obviously  greater 
than  that  of  any  other.  It  strikes  at  the  root  of  the  evil. 
To  remedy  the  abuses  of  legislation,  before  we  an- 
nihilate the  propensities  by  which  they  are  produced,  is 
to  suppose,  that  by  taking  away  the  effect,  the  cause 
will  cease  to  operate.  But  the  efficacy  of  this  system 
depends  entirely  on  the  proselytism  of  individuals,  and 
grounds  its  merits,  as  a  benefit  to  the  community,  upon 
the  total  change  of  the  dietetic  habits  in  its  members. 
It  proceeds  securely  from  a  number  of  particular  cases 


*  It  has  come  under  the  author's  experience,  that 
some  of  the  workmen  on  an  embankment  in  North  Wales, 
who,  in  consequence  of  the  inability  of  the  proprietor  to 
pay  them,  seldom  received  their  wages,  have  supported 
large  families  by  cultivating  small  spots  of  sterile 
ground  by  moonlight.  In  the  notes  to  Pratt's  Poem, 
"  Bread,  or  the  Poor,"  is  an  account  of  an  industrious 
labourer,  who,  by  working  in  a  small  garden,  before 
and  after  his  day's  task,  attained  to  an  enviable  state  of 
independence. 

P  3 


lv'8  NOTES. 

to  one  that  is  universal,  and  has  this  advantage  over  the 
contrary  mode,  that  one  error  does  not  invalidate  all 
that  has  gone  before. 

Let  not  too  much,  however,  be  expected  from  this 
system.  The  healthiest  among  us  is  not  exempt  from 
hereditary  disease.  The  most  symmetrical,  athletic, 
and  long-lived,  is  a  being  inexpressibly  inferior  to  what 
he  would  have  been,  had  not -the  unnatural  habits  of  his 
ancestors  accumulated  for  him  a  certain  portion  of  ma- 
lady and  deformity.  In  the  most  perfect  specimen  of 
civilized  man,  something  is  still  found  wanting  by  the 
physiological  critic.  Can  a  return  to  nature,  then,  in- 
stantaneously eradicate  predispositions  that  have  been 
slowly  taking  root  in  the  silence  of  innumerable  ages? — 
Indubitably  not.  All  that  I  contend  for  is,  that  from  the 
moment  of  the  relinquishing  all  unnatural  habits,  no  new 
disease  is  generated ;  and  that  the  predisposition  to 
hereditary  maladies  gradually  perishes,  for  want  of  its 
accustomed  supply.  In  cases  of  consumption,  cancer, 
gout,  asthma,  and  scrofula,  such  is  the  inv  triable  ten- 
dency of  a  diet  of  vegetables  and  pure  water. 

Those  who  may  be  induced  by  these  remarks  to  give 
the  vegetable  system  a  fair  trial,  should  in  the  first 
place,  date  the  commencement  of  their  practice,  from 
the  moment  of  their  conviction.  All  depends  upon 
breaking  through  a  pernicious  habit  resolutely,  and  at 
once.     Dr.  Trotter*  asserts,  that  no  drunkard  was  ever 

*  See  Trotter  on  the  Nervous  Temperament. 


NOTES.  177 

reformed  by  gradually  relinquishing  his  dram.  Animal 
flesh,  in  its  effects  on  the  human  stomach,  is  analagous  to 
a  dram.  It  is  similar  to  the  kind,  though  differing  in  the 
degree,  of  its  operation.  The  proselyte  to  a  pure  diet 
must  be  warned  to  expect  a  temporary  diminution  of 
muscular  strength.  The  subtraction  of  a  powerful 
stimulus  will  suffice  to  account  for  this  event.  But  it  is 
only  temporary,  and  is  succeeded  by  an  equable  capabi- 
lity for  exertion,  far  surpassing  his  former  various  and 
fluctuating  strength.  Above  all,  he  will  acquire  an 
easiness  of  breathing,  by  which  such  exertion  is  per- 
formed, with  a  remarkable  exemption  from  that  painful 
and  difficult  panting  now  felt  by  almost  every  one,  after 
hastily  climbing  an  ordinary  mountain  He  will  be 
equally  capable  of  bodily  exertion,  or  mental  applica- 
tion, after  as  before  his  simple  meal.  He  will  feel  none 
of  the  narcotic  effects  of  ordinary  diet.  Irritability,  the 
direct  consequence  of  exhausting  stimuli,  would  yield  to 
the  power  of  natural  aud  tranquil  impulses.  He  will  no 
longer  pine  under  the  lethargy  of  ennui,  that  unconquer- 
able weariness  of  life,  more  to  be  dreaded  than  death  it- 
self. He  will  escape  the  epidemic  madness,  which 
broods  over  its  own  injurious  notions  of  the  Deity,  and 
"  realizes  the  hell  that  priests  and  beldams  feign." 
Every  man  forms  as  it  were  his  god  from  his  own  cha- 
racter; to  the  divinity  of  one  of  simple  habits,  no  offer- 
ing would  be  more  acceptable  than  the  happiness  of  his 
creatures.    He  would  be  incapable  of  hating  or  perse- 


173  NOTES. 

cuting  others  for  the  love  of  God.  He  will  find,  more- 
over, a  system  of  simple  diet  to  be  a  system  of  perfect 
epicurism.  He  will  no  longer  be  incessantly  occupied 
in  blunting  and  destroying  those  organs  from  which  he 
expects  his  gratification.  The  pleasures  of  taste  to  be 
derived  from  a  dinner  of  potatoes,  beans,  peas,  turnips, 
lettuces,  with  a  desert  of  apples,  gooseberries,  straw- 
berries, currants,  raspberries,  and,  in  winter,  oranges, 
apples,  and  pears,  is  far  greater  than  is  supposed. 
Those  who  wait  until  they  can  eat  this  plain  fare  with 
the  sauce  of  appetite  will  scarcely  join  with  the  hypo- 
critical sensualist  at  a  lord-mayor's  feast,  who  dis- 
claims against  the  pleasures  of  the  table.  Soloinan 
kept  a  thousand  concubines,  and  owned  in  despair  that 
all  was  vanity.  The  man  whose  happiness  is  consti- 
tuted by  the  society  of  one  amiable  woman,  would  find 
some  difficulty  in  sympathizing  with  the  disappointment 
of  this  venerable  debauchee. 

I  address  myself  not  only  to  the  young  enthusiast, 
the  ardent  devotee  of  truth  and  virtue,  the  pure  and 
passionate  moralist,  yet  imviliated  by  the  contagion  of 
the  world.  He  will  embrace  a  pure  system,  from  its 
abstract  truth,  its  beauty,  its  simplicity,  and  its  promise 
of  wide-extended  benefit ;  unless  custom  has  turned 
poison  into  food,  he  will  hate  the  brutal  pleasures  of 
the  chaste  by  instinct;  it  will  be  a  contemplation  full 
of  horror  and  disappointment  to  his  mind,  that  beings 
capable  of  the  gentlest  and  most  admirable  sympathies, 


NOTE?.  179 

should  take  delight  in  the  death-pangs  and  last  con- 
vulsions of  dying  animals.  The  elderly  man,  whose 
youth  has  heen  poisoned  by  intemperance,  or  who  has 
lived  with  apparent  moderation,  and  is  afflicted  with  a 
variety  of  painful  maladies,  would  find  his  account  in 
a  beneficial  change,  produced  without  the  risk  of  poi- 
sonous medicines.  The  mother,  to  whom  the  perpetual 
restlessness  of  disease,  and  unaccountable  deaths  inci- 
dent to  her  children,  are  the  causes  of  incurable  un- 
happiness,  would  on  this  diet  experience  the  satisfac- 
tion of  beholding  their  perpetual  health  and  natural 
playfulness.* 

The  most  valuable  lives  are  daily  destroyed  by  dis- 
eases, that  it  is  dangerous  to  palliate,  and  impossible 
to  cure  by  medicine.    How  much  longer  will  man  con- 

*  See  Mr.  Newton's  book.  His  children  are  the  most 
beautiful  and  healthy  creatures  it  is  possible  to  con- 
ceive; the  girls  are  perfect  models  for  a  sculptor  ;  their 
dispositions  are  also  the  most  gentle  and  conciliating: 
the  judicious  treatment  which  they  experience  in  other 
points,  may  be  a  correlative  cause  of  this.  In  the  first 
five  years  of  their  life,  of  18,000  children  that  are  born, 
7,500  die  of  various  diseases  ;  and  how  many  more  of 
those  that  survive  are  rendered  miserable  by  maladies 
not  immediately  mortal  ?  The  quality  and  quantity  of 
a  woman's  milk  are  materially  injured  by  the  use  of 
dead  flesh.  In  an  island,  near  Iceland,  where  no  ve- 
getables are  to  be  got,  the  children  invariably  die  of 
tetanus,  before  they  are  three  weeks  old,  and  the  popu- 
lation is  supplied  from  the  main  land.  Sir  G.  Macken- 
zie's Hist,  of  Iceland.  See  also  Emilc,  chap.  i.  p.  53, 
54,56.  X 


180  NOTES, 

tinue  to  pimp  for  the  gluttony  of  death,  his  most  insi- 
dious, implacable,  and  eternal  foe  ? 

"  You  apply  the  denomination  of  beasts  of  prey  to  ser- 
pents, panthers,  and  lions,  but  you,  in  your  wanton  and 
cruel  effusion  of  blood,  prove  yourselves  entitled  with 
equal  justice,  to  the  application  of  the  term.  The  prac- 
tice with  themis  the  dictate  of  Nature  for  their  subsis- 
tence, in  you  luxurious  indulgence  stimulates  the  crime. 

"  It  is  evident  from  the  construction  of  his  body,  that 
man  is  not  destined  by  Nature  to  consume  animal  food, 
for  there  subsists  no  kind  of  analogy  between  his  frame 
and  that  of  animals,  to  whom  she  has  given  this  propen- 
sity. He  has  no  sharp  and  crooked  beak,  no  claw  or 
tusk  to  tear  and  lacerate  his  victims  ;  the  muscular 
action  of  his  stomach  is  weak,  and  in  him  the  animal 
spirits  are  not  sufficiently  active  to  facilitate  the  concoc- 
tion and  digestion  of  solid  and  fleshy  substances.  On 
the  contrary,  we  perceive  in  his  smooth  and  even  teeth, 
the  contracted  size  of  his  mouth,  the  softness  of  his 
tongue,  the  comparative  inactivity  of  his  animal  spirits, 
how  widely  remote  from  any,  is  the  contemplation  of 
nature. 

"  If  you  are  disposed  to  maintain  that  such  is  her  inten- 
tion, why  do  you  not  yourselves  slaughter  what  you  de- 
vour? Why  do  you  not  decline  the  use  of  axe,  ham- 
mer, or  hatchet,  and  like  wolves,  bears,  and  lions,  assi- 
milate the  mode  to  the  deed,  substitute  your  teeth  for 
the  instrument  in  slaying  the  ox,  grapple  by  dipt  of 


NOTES.  l&l 

bodily  strength  with  the  boar,  tear  and  mangle  the  limb* 
of  the  lamb  or  the  hare,  and  to  be  in  character,  fall  upon 
them  and  devour  them  while  life  yet  palpitates  in  their 
veins. 

"  We  combine  luxury  with  cruelty,  and  must  have  sauces 
with  that  flesh  which  we  so  highly  extol,  swallowing  in- 
discriminately oil,  wine,  honey,  pickles,  vinegar,  Syrian 
and  Arabian  spices,  as  if  we  would  embalm  the  carcases 
we  eat.  The  digestive  powers  cannot  without  difficulty, 
reduce  to  a  soft  and  fluid  state,  such  masses  of  matter, 
which  may  be  even  said  to  putrify  in  the  stomach — 
hence  a  fruitful  source  of  painful  diseases  and  dangerous 
maladies. 

"Wild  and  mischievous  animals  first  became  the  prey 
of  man,  then  birds  and  fishes  in  all  their  varieties.  His 
vitiated  taste  having  been  exercised  on  these,  and  having 
acquired  a  relish  for  blood,  the  laborious  ox,  the  fleecy 
sheep,  and  thai  faithful  domestic  sentinel,  the  cock,  fell 
successive  victims.  The  insatiate  appetite  thus  edged, 
the  transition  was  quick  to  human  slaughters,  massacres, 
and  wars."* — Plutarch. 

*  A  translation  is  substituted  here  for  the  original 
quoted  from  Plutarch. 

Jim*,    coc^/lv    /<   '.    ^c^ts 

.  ~  finis,    y      '  twftt&W/kr+U 


THE  FOLLOWING  WORKS   MAY  BE  HAD  OF 
MESSRS.  BALDWIN:— 

The  Age  of  Reason,  and  other  Theological  Writings 
of  the  late  Thomas  Paine:  neatly  printed  in  a  pocket 
volume,  for  the  use  of  schools,  and  sold  at  a  very  low 
price  to  those  who  circulate  them  for  the  benefit  of  the 
rising  generation. 

ALSO, 

A  Miniature  edition  of  all  the  fascinating  Melodies 
of  the  Irish  Poet,  Thomas  Moore,  price  half  a  dollar, 
but  which  are  now  selling  in  England  for  six  guineas. 

ALSO, 

That  ancient  and  curious  book,  "  The  Three  Ii^pos- 
tors;"  translated  into  English,  and  printed  uniform 
with  the  stereotype  edition  of  Watts's  Hymns. 


1 


M 


